


31 Days of Diarmuid

by the_ren_lover



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Last Kiss, Marriage Proposal, Morning After, Morning Sex, Self-Insert, no y/n
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 77,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25664143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ren_lover/pseuds/the_ren_lover
Summary: 31 days worth of Diarmuid x Reader fics based on songs in my playlist!
Relationships: Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Lancer/Reader
Comments: 87
Kudos: 117





	1. Lay, Lady, Lay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are very few things more beautiful to Diarmuid than watching you sleep in his bed. As a matter of fact, all of his favorite things just so happen to involve you in his bed...

Every once in a blue moon, when you didn’t have a looming due date from your work and there wasn’t anything urgent to do, Diarmuid would wake up before you. On these rare mornings, you would always wake up to a hot cup of coffee and a hot breakfast waiting on the bedside table with your loyal servant sitting beside you. You always wondered, though, what exactly he did while he waited for you to wake up. There was a running list in your head of possibilities that was endlessly added to. Most recently, you had the sudden thought that maybe he played sudoku or read the newspaper, but all of that didn’t matter on this particular morning, because for the first time you caught him in the act.

The night before had been, well, eventful. As you woke and started to stir, several delightful aches across your body reminded you of each intimate moment the two of you had shared. Oh… _oh_. You remembered the look of utter joy Diar had given you when you finally broke his curse, but the scorching kiss he gave you right after was even clearer, burned into your mind for the rest of time. The two of you had transferred manna before, but what you had shared in the darkness was unlike anything you had ever felt. It made you suspicious that he had learned a thing or two during his time in the throne of heros.

When you finally opened your eyes to the gentle morning light filtering through the lace curtains in your guest bedroom, you saw Diarmuid in all his shirtless glory propped up on his elbow, gazing down at your face. The cliche of it all was more than enough to make your face heat up with embarrassment. He just kept smiling despite it all, though, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Is _this_ what you do while I sleep?” You managed to squeak, doing your best to hide your face in the dense comforter while he chuckled.

“I do enjoy watching you sleep,” He whispered. _Oh no_. It was as if he could feel the mortification building in the pit of your stomach as he continued to laugh. “Though, I enjoy watching you sleep in my bed much more than watching you sleep in yours. I have to thank you for insisting I claim this room as my own.” God, even when he was teasing you he was still so damn chivalrous. Despite the endless pit of despair you found yourself falling into, the primal pride in his voice made you lift your eyes to meet his.

There was something about the way his hawk-like eyes followed you, always filled with reverence and adoration, that dispelled ever insecurity about the night before building in your heart. Surely someone who looked at you like he did couldn’t regret what the two of you had shared, right? Finally relaxing, you let out a nervous giggle.

“What?” He prodded your side lightly with his finger, “What could you possibly be laughing about at a time like this?” This just caused you to giggle harder. “I insist you tell me what’s so funny? Did I fail to please you last night?”

“No, no!” You managed to splutter, gasping for air between your fits of joyous laughter, “I always just assumed you were off doing something else while I slept when you woke up before me,”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, sudoku?” With that, you were splitting at the seams once again, unable to control the seemingly endless giggles, only this time Diarmuid joined in, his voice naturally gorgeous. In fact, in the morning light all of his features seemed even more inhumanly beautiful than usual. While gazing at his laughing face, his actions didn’t seem quite so odd anymore. Once you both managed to contain yourselves he sat up, the blanket falling to his waist as he went.

“I’m sorry to disappoint Master, but I do not partake in such… frivolous activities before you wake. I will admit that once I make you breakfast I have in the past allowed myself to linger and gaze upon your sleeping form in the past, but it has always stopped at just that.” He swallowed audibly then, clearing his voice in a way that almost made him sound embarrassed. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, wooer of women and knight of Fianna, could be embarrassed by sharing a bed with someone as plain as you… could he? He continued then, eyes downcast, “I hope that perhaps, in the future, you will permit us to grow closer.” Now _that_ confused you.

“Diar, what are you trying to say?” You asked, sitting up to join him, clinging the blanket to your chest in an attempt to preserve your dignity.  
Now he was blushing furiously, refusing to meet your gaze. “What I am attempting to propose… well, what I hope is… oh to hell with it!” He exclaimed, and then suddenly his lips were on yours again, soft and desperate at the same time. Your first response was to stiffen with shock, but after a moment you melted into his skilled touch, letting your hands move to cup his cheeks and drop the blanket covering your modesty. After a few moments, though, he pulled away, face filled with uncertainty. “I apologize,” he managed to stutter, “that was extremely forward of me. A knight of my caliber should not be forcing himself on unsuspecting women.”

“Diarmuid,” you looked him dead in the eye now, reaching for one of his hands, “you’re fine. I think I understand what you’re trying to do, and yes, I want this too.”

It was as if a weight had physically lifted from his shoulders, letting him breathe easily again. “Thank goodness,” he muttered, “for a moment I worried that I had become just like Grainne, dragging you into my romantic fantasies without any way to say no.”

“Not at all. I wanted everything we did just as much as you did, in fact I’d wanted it for quite a while, I was just worried you wouldn’t feel the same. Even when I woke up I was worried that you regretted what we did last night… I don’t want things to go back to the way they were Diar, I just want you.”

“That, my dearest, is a relief,” he sighed before placing a chaste kiss on your forehead and lingering there for a moment, as if to commit the moment to his memory forever. “I apologize if this has been unpleasant, that was not my intention. Should I go make you some breakfast master? You could get some more rest while I cook and we could start this whole morning over again.” It was a quick motion, but you noticed as his eyes flicked down to our bare chest, widened with surprise, and then searched around the room for another point of purchase.

“Actually,” you teased, breathing softly, “I think there’s something we should do first.” I was quite cute to watch Diarmuid flounder for a response, still trying his best to respect you even then. Once a knight, always a knight you supposed, but nevertheless, it was adorable.

“You tempt me endlessly,” he breathed, coming close to your face and cupping your cheeks in his sizable hands, “and yet I find that I do not wish to resist you any longer.” Before he lost himself in the moment, he laughed jovially once again.

“What?” you asked, already out of breath.

“Nothing at all, my love. I’ve just realized that all of my favorite things in this world involve you in my bed,”


	2. So Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, despite all the odds, two people are destined to come together over and over in every timeline. After losing the Diarmuid of your timeline, you find yourself pulled towards the Diarmuid of another. You’re faced with an important conundrum; will you allow yourself to share one last evening with your knight, or will you avoid the pain?
> 
> This takes place after Lostbelt 2, so there are minor spoilers about in-game events up to that point!!!

When you woke up to Edmond Dantes’ scowling face and the sounds of wildlife around you, you knew you were in for an absolute treat. _Oh great_ , you thought as the world stopped spinning, _another dream from hell_. One moment you had been napping on the shadow border, the next you were laying in the middle of the woods with your favorite avenger. Slowly, you stretched, allowing yourself to get used to the odd surroundings. 

“Good, you’re alive,” the king of the cavern snorted, putting out his cigarette on a nearby tree before moving to help you up. In a swift motion, he pulled you from the forest floor. There was something strangely amicable about him despite his usual frostiness, as if he almost pitied your tendency to get stuck in dreams and need his assistance. 

“So I guess it’s you and me, Count” You muttered, brushing dirt from your short black uniform skirt, “What are we up against this time? Another labyrinth, a few samurai, a legion of Nobus…”

Dantes snorted curtly, rewarding your comedic efforts with a polite smile. “No, Master, I’m afraid this particular dream is entirely of your making,” 

Your face fell. 

“What did you just say?” The question flew from your lips, but instead of offering any answers Dantes started walking off into the woods without you. He lit a new cigarette as you gaped at his receding silhouette, taking a long puff and generally ignoring your existence. “Hey!” You wailed, putting yourself together and rushing to his side, “what the hell does that mean? I trapped myself in a walking nightmare? How did I manage that?” You gestured wildly with your hands at the taller man. With each new question, though, he just seemed to get more amused. Finally, he reached his breaking point, laughing wildly in the darkness of your surroundings.

“I’m quite impressed actually, little master. This whole thing is extremely difficult magecraft,” he began, slowing his strides enough that you could keep up easily, “You’ve made your own little prison in your head. I don’t have access to much information, but what I can tell you is you won’t wake up until you’ve reached the goal in your subconscious.” He paused then, turning to face you. “Master, what is it that you want more than anything?”

Maybe it was the bluntness of his question, but in that moment your mind blanked. “I dunno,” you exclaimed, pacing across the mossy ground, “I guess my biggest goal right now is to fix these lostbelts but besides that… maybe eating a real meal?” Dantes sighed heavily, so obviously that wasn’t the right answer. “How much time has passed in the real world?”

“Less than 20 minutes. The shadow border will reach the Wandering Sea in approximately 3 hours, but the demi-servant girl will most likely come to wake you up in 2,” Dantes’ tone was entirely analytical and for that you were glad. If any other servant had been here, Mash particularly, they probably would have sent you into a rushed panic. Something about his matter-of-fact delivery made the bad news much more bearable. 

You made a sound of acknowledgement and slipped into silent thought while walking at his side. Another thing you enjoyed about the avenger was his ability to simply exist, carrying out the best course of action without needing to chatter endlessly. The two of you couldn’t have walked for more than 10 minutes, though, before the forest started to thin a bit. As the gaps between trees got wider, a large castle appeared on the horizon across a wide field, surrounded by small stone houses with thatched roofs and seemingly endless fields of grain. It was beautiful, like something out of an old storybook, and also oddly familiar. Above you, the night sky seemed like a sea of stars, infinitely stretching through the heavens.

Pausing at the edge of the clearing, Dantes cleared his throat. “This is as far as I can go,” he muttered, but not before pulling a bundle of fabric out from beneath his cloak. “Whatever you desire is waiting in that castle. I believe this will help you fit in with the crowd,” When examined closer, the fabrics were actually a beautiful dress of green velvet and an accompanying cotton shift.

“Thank you Ed- oh,”

When you looked up to thank him, Dantes was gone, leaving you alone to reach the end of your dream. _You can do this_ , you thought to yourself as you stripped down, folding your uniform neatly and placing it under a nearby tree, _once you get in there it’ll be obvious, you just need to get in, get out, and get back to the real world_. The dress was a bit difficult to maneuver yourself into, but in the end you were left looking halfway decent as you walked through the small village to the looming castle.

From the empty streets and the loud music drifting over the castle’s high walls it seemed like there was a festival of some sorts going on and that only became clearer when you entered the main courtyard, suddenly finding yourself surrounded by a crowd of happy, dancing townspeople. They were drinking from large goblets, making merriment around every corner. In fact, it seemed like every place you turned was packed to the gills with excited, dancing peasants. 

For a moment, while drinking deeply from a goblet someone handed you along the way, it was easy to forget that this was all a dream. For the first time in ages there was no major, looming threat to defeat or problem to be solved. You could simply be yourself again, enjoying life for no reason other than you could. It was tempting to give up, to let yourself drift in this dream limbo for the rest of eternity and leave the others to save humanity, but you decided against it in the end, instead making your way to what seemed like the entrance to the interior of the castle. What was waiting there made you freeze.

Up on the steps of the great stone palace, sitting upon a throne, was Fionn Mac Cumhaill, great king of the Fianna. No. No, no, no no no. In an instant your merriment turned into dread and the wine in your mouth became sour. “Not this,” you whispered, searching for somewhere to sit and collect yourself, “anything but this,”

At Fionn’s side there was a woman you had seen many times in dreams. Long golden hair framed her delicate face as she urged him to dance with her, big brown eyes gazing deeply into his. There was no way that wasn’t Grainne, the woman you had come to respect and despise equally after your time with… you winced. It was hard to even think of his name. “I have to get out of here,” you whispered, “there must be some way out of this without having to see _him,_ ”

Suddenly, you felt a warm, familiar hand on your shoulder. “Without having to see whom, my dear lady?”

You froze. 

“I assure you, no man will lay a hand on you without your permission, I swear it on my honor as a knight of Fianna,”

You could already feel the tears slipping down your cheeks before you turned to face the man with the face of your lover. It was unavoidable, you assured yourself, once you heard his voice it became clear what your heart had yearned for deeply enough to strand you in a dream. You couldn’t have escaped without seeing him one more time. Taking him in, every detail of his face was exactly the same as you remembered, not a hair out of place. He seemed more carefree than you had ever seen him, holding a mulled wine in one hand with a broad, charming smile on his face. 

“Tonight we are celebrating our king’s great triumph in today’s hunt, and yet I have never seen you in our kingdom before.” Leaning in, he added, “believe me, I would remember meeting a woman with your great beauty,” Even his voice was the same, though lighter somehow, less burdened by years of struggles and disasters. This was the man you always wished to meet, the Diarmuid you had only managed to grasp in short snippets during the 2 years you had spent together. After a moment, when you didn’t return his conversation, he noticed your tears.

Tenderly, he reached up and brushed them away with his calloused thumb. The feeling of his touch was something you would never forget, but feeling it again after months of loneliness made you realize just how much you missed it. The tears fell freely now, and you were powerless to stop them as you began to sob openly, earning a look of sympathy from your knight.

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation in somewhere a bit more private,” he whispered, lips brushing the curve of your ear as he took your hand and led you through the crowd. It was everything you had ever wanted and yet it was all much too overwhelming. On your short journey past the band and into a secluded garden, you attempted several times to apologize through your tears but each and every time Diarmuid would cut you off with some comment on the music or the wine. When you finally reached the destination, a sturdy stone bench in the corner of the small courtyard, your tears had stopped falling.

“My lady,” Diarmuid smiled so sweetly, helping you settle yourself on the bench and thumbing away your tears once again, “there is no reason why someone as beautiful as you should cry, especially if that reason is a man. If someone has hurt you, all you need to do is say the word, the Fianna will hunt them down and make sure they pay for their crimes.” There was a familiar hard edge to his voice then, but you managed to shake your head no, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“If I told you what made me so upset, I don’t think you’d believe me,” You laughed softly as he quirked his eyebrow up, curious.

“I could believe a great many things if they fell from your lips,”

“I knew someone who looked and sounded a lot like you,” you started. It would be much easier on the both of you if you bent the truth a little, so you tried your best to twist your memories into a believable story. “He was cursed, like you are, and it took me a very long time to show him that I loved him despite his curse, not because of it. Unfortunately, he… he passed away with many other of my friends in a terrible accident. I worried that if I saw you here tonight, I wouldn’t be able to control my emotions.”

The knight looked somberly into your eyes before nodding and sitting beside you. “Does my presence bother you? If you would prefer to mourn your partner in peace, I will respect your wishes. If not, though, I hope that you would do me the honor of dancing with me,” 

Your eyes widened in shock at his words. “You want to dance with me?”

“We are more similar than you may believe, and not just because of our good looks. I too have some unpleasant memories attached to this court. You see, the betrothed of the king once attempted to seduce me, going so far as to attempt casting a geis upon me to follow her to the ends of the earth.”

“Lady Grainne?” You asked, acting innocent and clueless. In all honesty you were eager to learn about this alternate version of his time with the woman you envied with all your heart.

“Yes, Lady Grainne,” he sighed. “I managed to resist long enough for one of my fellow knights to help me convince her to stay with our king. Still, she is affected deeply by my cursed love spot,” with that, he pointed upwards to the mole under his right eye. You placed a gentle hand over his larger one and squeezed. It was easy to understand that he appreciated the gesture, because a few moments later he looked you deeply in the eyes. “I am utterly infatuated by you. Not only are you the most stunning woman I have ever laid eyes on, you also seem immune to the terrible curse I bear. If it would be acceptable, I wish to court you.” 

Everything came rushing at you so quickly. Despite the fact that you had to continue reminding yourself all of this was a dream it all felt so painfully real. But, when you took a moment and looked him in the eyes you could tell he wasn’t your Diarmuid. Though he wore his face and shared his voice, this was just a mimicry of the man you loved built on fragments of memory and fantasy. When you woke, you would be just as alone as you had been since the invasion of Chaldea. Still, could one night of happiness be that bad? Even if it was all an elaborate lie, would it be so bad to enjoy what could be your last moment in the arms of your lover? Was it worth the pain?

“Let us start with a dance,” you smiled up at the knight before standing, “we’ll see where it goes from there.”

You filed away the memory of the beaming smile that spread across his face. Knowing the threats you’d face in the coming days, it would keep you sane. “I promise I will make it worth your while,” his words were slightly teasing, but the sentiment behind them was honest. In a moment, you were swept into his arms and swaying to the distant lutes and fifes. 

The feeling of his solid chest beneath your cheek was almost enough to send you into hysterics again, but you resisted, instead relishing in the deep, woodsy scent of his soft tunic. Pressed against his large body, it was like you were finally complete again. Song after song played and the moon got higher and higher in the starry Irish sky but the passage of time had no effect on you or Diarmuid. The two of you were content to simply continue swaying and enjoying the feeling of closeness you shared. That was until you could feel your tether to the dream world begin to dissolve.

“Diarmuid,” you choked out, beginning to cry once again. 

The knight froze at your words, pulling away from the tight embrace and looking down at your face. “I don’t believe I told you my name,” he whispered. You dreaded his inevitable rejection of you, but instead of turning you away Diarmuid wrapped you in a tight hug. 

“Why are you doing this,” you sobbed, gripping his upper arms in a weak attempt to push him away, “why are you making it so hard to leave?”

“Because I love you,”

His words made you melt, turning your weak protests into nothings on your lips.

“I don’t know who you are, or where you have come from, but you seem familiar to me, as if I’ve known you before. Perhaps we were lovers in a previous life, that is your secret to keep, but none of that matters now. I’m here with you now for as long as you allow me to be,” His words were like honey, inviting you in, but it was already too late. You had minutes at most left in this perfect dream world, and yet here Diarmuid was promising a lifetime. “I assure you, no matter what happens, I will always be your knight.”

Those words sent you over the edge. You recognised them, the words that had been burned into your psyche since Diarmuid had disappeared in front of you, the words you’d clung to as what may be the last you’d ever hear him say. It seemed that some things never changed, no matter how the two of you parted.

“Kiss me,” you said, looking into his golden eyes, “don’t go,” The honorable knight was happy to oblige. As your body slowly drifted away into nothingness you could feel his unrelenting lips pressed sweetly into yours, a kiss goodbye you’d remember for the rest of time. Your wish, silly as it may have been, was to be able to get a proper goodbye.

——-

“Senpai! Senpai, wake up!”

Mash was shaking your shoulder when you woke up, groaning. You were back on the shadow border, surrounded by the dead metalic greys and whites you’d learned to call home. “I was worried about you,” Mash helped you sit up, grabbing a nearby box of tissues, “you were crying. Did you have another nightmare?”

“No, Mash, it was actually quite a good dream,” you muttered, wiping cold tears from your cheeks. 

“Why were you crying then?” She asked.

“I guess I just wished it never had to end,” 

When the demi-servant finally stopped fussing over you and left to get ready for the next staff briefing, you found that you could still feel the ghost of Diarmuid’s heartbeat, pressed so closely to yours. Newly invigorated, you began to get dressed for the day. _No matter how_ , you thought, walking out into the control room, _I will find you again Diarmuid. When I do, you owe me a lifetime._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I realized I forgot to mention yesterday’s song in the caption. Yesterday was Lay, Lady, Lay by Bob Dylan, while today’s song was So Close by Jon McLaughlin. Sorry for all the angst but I have had the idea of a last dance type scenario floating around in my head for a while and I just had to write it. I hope you enjoyed this work, if you did I’d love a comment! also, if you have any song suggestions or ideas of other characters I could do next month I’d love to hear them <3


	3. An Irish Party In Third Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When an offhand comment about several Irish servant’s gets Diarmuid’s attention, he challenges you to an obviously rigged bet involving a super secret date location.
> 
> Takes place during ServantFes 2020 but has very minor spoilers if any at all

“It’s been a long time since we could relax like this, huh?” You said, fiddling mindlessly with the hem of your shorts. Just inches away waves were lapping at the white sands of the Hawaiian beach where you had just finished up lunch with your favorite servant. Diarmuid was standing a few feet away from your beach chair, wading in the shallows and digging shells out of the silt at the edge of the water. With his loose green hoodie hanging loosely off his hips above his long green swim shorts, he looked like some chiseled Greek statue, especially when the sun hit his sweat-slick chest just right giving his pale skin the appearance of pure white marble.

He hummed a soft agreeance before pulling yet another small shell from beneath the frothy water. Watching him putter around made your heart warm. If you ever managed to leave Chaldea for the real world again you could imagine making trips out to the beach with Diarmuid often, if only to see him smiling as he methodically searched for the buried treasure beneath his toes. Even though you had been toiling away tirelessly to help Jalter write her doujin, soft moments like this made it feel not like work at all. 

“I’ve been wondering...” you started, getting the knight's attention. Instantly he was by your side, dropping his newest finds into a pink plastic bucket by your feet. You would never get tired of his eagerness to please you entirely selflessly. “I have to get back to the hotel soon to help Mash start staplieg the doujins, but I’m free tonight. Maybe we could go out to dinner? Like a proper date, not just watching movies or playing games in your room,” Diarmuid’s eyes widened as a smile grew on his face.

“I would be thrilled to go on a date with you,” In the afternoon sun, his whole body seemed to radiate a happy golden glow. “In fact, I’m a little disappointed in myself that I didn’t think to ask you first.” With an unceremonious thud, Diarmuid settled himself down on the sand next to your chair, leaning his head gently on your upper thigh and gazing at some servants playing volleyball farther down the beach. Even with all the stunning sights of Hawaii around you, you were transfixed by Diarmuid’s beauty. Almost absentmindedly you began to run your fingers through his soft black hair, eliciting soft sighs from the knight.

When you managed to pull your eyes away from Diarmuid, you noticed that both Cu Chulainn and Cu Alter were part of the nearby volleyball game. The two were on the same team, an odd pairing despite them being two sides of the same coin. Smiling, you chuckled a bit as you thought of a potentially unpleasant interaction playing out on the soft white sand.

“What’s so funny?” Diarmuid mumbled, half asleep from your ministrations.

“Nothing in particular,” You pulled your fingers away from the knight’s hair then, instead reaching into your beach bag to pull out a bag of potato chips you had saved from lunch. “It’s just that Medb has been monopolizing the beach during the morning for most of the week with her swimsuit modeling shoots. I could only imagine the disaster waiting to happen if she ran into those two…” Diarmuid chuckled with you, but then paused, deep in thought. “Ok, now it's your turn to tell me what’s on your mind Diarmuid,”

In an instant he shot up, beaming broadly down at you before pulling on his hoodie. “Are you willing to bet on that?”

“What?”

“Are you willing to bet on the fact that if Medb and the Cu’s were together in the same room, that a disaster would occur?” There was something sly in his voice, a bit overly confident for a bet you were almost guaranteed to win. Every logical part of your brain was telling you that this bet was entirely rigged in Diarmuid’s favor but something about the way he was beaming, so youthful and carefree compared to his usual knightly persona, made you feel just lucky enough to say yes. And besides, his honor and sense of chivalry would make it impossible for him to actually take something of value away from you on a rigged bet, so what was there to lose?

Squinting your eyes slightly to feign suspicion you opened the bag of chips and began eating them slowly. “Something tells me you know about something that I don’t, but yes,” Diarmuid’s beaming face was enough of a prize for you, win or lose, but you upped the stakes. “What’s your boon? And what do you want if you win?”

The knight thought for a moment, before exclaiming a soft ‘aha’ and taking your hand in his. “If I lose, I will let you choose the next 3 movies we watch during movie night, because I know you despise my terrible taste in modern cinema. If I win, though, I believe you will owe me a kiss,”

“Diar,” you laughed, finishing off your chips and putting the folded wrapper back into your purse to throw out later, “I don’t hate when you pick movies, I just don’t want to keep watching Leap Year. It’s a fine movie, but there are way better ones. Plus, I kiss you all the time anyway,”

“Ah, but a kiss that has been won fairly is so much sweeter!” Sneakily, you rose and ambushed him with a hug and a soft peck on the cheek, sending both of you sprawling into the white sand. Diarmuid caught you against his broad chest, softening the fall, and brushed your now windblown hair away from your face. “We shall dine tonight at a venue of your choosing, but after that I must take you somewhere very special. You must tell no one of what you see tonight, not even your closest compatriot, understand?”

The seriousness in Diarmuid’s voice was a bit of a farce, you saw through him enough to know that if you _did_ tell anybody you wouldn’t be in any trouble, but the idea of a secretive second location on your first real date was a bit exciting in a theatrical type of way. It felt a bit like a romantic comedy coming true. After years of struggles to restore humanity, though, you felt like having one fairytale date was not too far fetched and definitely well deserved.

“I’ll meet you down in the hotel lobby at 8. Thanks for doing this, by the way,” you said, burying your face in his chest and enjoying his warmth for a moment longer before you’d have to part for a few hours. The date waiting on the horizon was wonderful, but you were entirely sure it would make every minute of work up until then seem like a lifetime.

“Master, the pleasure is all mine,”

———

As you expected, the next few hours of work were grueling and long. Having Jalter and Ushiwakamaru adding more work onto your load didn’t make it any easier either. Soon enough, though, the sun was setting against the water, a brilliant watercolor of fresh oranges and purples, and Diarmuid was waiting for you down in the lobby. You made sure nobody followed you, not even Mash, who had accidentally wandered into many of your dates with Diarmuid in the hopes of spending a bit of extra time with you (not that you blamed her. She was your best friend, it was only right that she enjoy time with you too). When you descended the staircase in your best dress, Diarmuid was waiting like a proper gentleman at the bottom to take your arm and lead you away.

He looked stunning, as usual, dressed in a clean cut suit that was just green enough to not be considered black. As he led you away into the warm, mild night, he whispered gently in your ear, “You look absolutely ravishing, my love,” How he saw you as anything more than plain was a great mystery that you could never hope to solve, not that you wanted too.

The beginning of the night was wonderful, yet uneventful. The two of you dined in a private room at the Ritz-Carlton and enjoyed a full meal with dessert together despite the fact that Diarmuid didn’t technically need to eat. Your favorite part was the chocolate cake, dense and moist but not too sweet or too rich. Diarmuid swore on his honor (something you were beginning to realizehe did quite a lot) that he would retrieve the recipe and, surprisingly enough, he did. It would have been a perfect night if he had simply ended it there and walked you back to your hotel room, but as you exited the building back onto the street, you were reminded that the best was yet to come.

Instead of heading back to the hotel, Diarmuid led you through streets and alleys, navigating the darkness perfectly to a destination he seemed to already know. “I have to warn you,” he said shortly before you arrived, “tonight you will see a side of me that even I rarely see. I hope that if anything I say or do bothers you, you will tell me right away.”

“Of course,” you nodded, and off into the night you continued. 

A few moments later he stopped you suddenly. “Here we are!” He shouted, gesturing upwards to the orange, green, and white awning of the brick pub that sat squarely between two more modern buildings. Opening the door, a rush of music and cool air hit your face, as if you were being transported to a whole other world. “Welcome, master, to the annual celtic servant get-together of 2020!” 

Calling the view in front of you a celtic servant get-together seemed like an understatement. There were, funnily enough, quite a few servants you didn’t recognize, but many you did. As Diarmuid walked in ahead of you, a large welcoming cry made its way through the crowd. His name was shouted by several people as he removed his suit jacket, hanging it up by the door.

It took a moment for you to really take in your surroundings. You could see Scathach, still donning her seasonal bikini, drinking a pint with Fionn near what looked like a stage with several instruments tucked away around the edge. Anne and Marie, two servants you often forgot were celtic, were also around leading a crowd of servants in a rowdy drinking tune. Then you saw them. In the rightmost corner of the room, tucked away from most of the crowd, was Medb and at her right, utterly shitfaced, was Cu. The two seemed to be locked in a deep debate, but unlike any other occasion they didn’t look like they were deciding to settle said debate with violence. Cu Alter was elsewhere in the room, and you didn’t blame him for avoiding the woman, but you had still lost the bet fair and square. 

Suddenly you felt a soft tug on your hand. Looking up, Diarmuid was holding it, attempting to pull you gently into the crowd. “This is amazing,” you whispered, letting him pull you along towards the bar where it seemed Fionn and Fergus were waiting for him, along with a few other strangers. “Have you guys done one of these every year?” 

“Yeah, we like to keep it a secret so nobody feels left out. I think it’s the one day a year that some of us can get together without fighting,” Finally sidling up to the bar Diarmuid signalled the barkeep and ordered, “two pints for me and my lady,” 

“Master!” Fionn shouted, noticing you first and enveloping you in a tight hug, “ _Dia duit_ , welcome to the family!” You returned the embrace lightly, pulling away to greet Fergus as well. Quickly after that you hopped up onto one of the barstools next to Diarmuid, enjoying the view before you. “This here is my master,” Fionn continued boisterously to the people around him, obviously quite drunk already, “Master, this here is my good friend Oscar Wilde, and over here is my wonderful son Oisín!”

Sheepishly you waved hello. It would never get easier meeting famous figures from history, but at least here all of them were mostly too drunk to remember you. Diarmuid wrapped an arm around you then, pulling you in close to him and reminding you of his familiar presence. Something about having him there made you feel like you could take on anything. He handed you your pint of beer before leaning over and gently whispering to you “I made sure you got something without alcohol, I know you’re not a big fan,” 

“Thank you, Diar,” 

It was easy to tell, though, that Diarmuid’s own drink was most definitely the fully alcoholic kind. His voice was a bit huskier than usual and was laced with the scent of a Guinness. Before you knew it he had already downed his entire drink and was ordering another. It seemed like _this_ was what he had meant when he said he’d be acting a bit strange. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it had been like in his time, raucous parties filled with drinking, warriors, and music. 

As the night progressed Diarmuid continued to drink, but never enough to truly let himself lose control. It _was_ enough to let him start gossiping about the entire room of people around him in a low tone though. “That over there playing pool is Caílte mac Rónàin and Conán mac Morna, they served in the Fianna with me. Next to them is Saint Patrick, though he ain’t as saintly as he seems,” he hummed, a slight brogue slipping into his usually neutral voice. It was entirely strange and sultry, like an entirely new part of him had been exposed to you. “And that,” he pointed to another unfamiliar man at a table of rowdy drinkers, “is Láeg, the man who pulled Cu’s chariot all those years ago, he’s a nice bloke,” 

The longer you sat, the juicer his bits of information became. “Did you know Cu killed his own leanbh? Terrible thing that was, poor Connla. Cu himself can’t bear to talk to the kid even now, neither can Proto or Caster, but Alter? He’s been sitting with the boy all three years we’ve done this. That berserker is a piece of work, but deep down he’s still the same old Cu Chulainn,” 

Before you knew it, the clock struck eleven and the room began to shift, with people picking up bags and instruments around the room. “Is it over?” You asked, tugging on Diarmuid’s sleeve. The servant simply downed his last pint of the night and shook his head no. 

“No _mo ghrá_ , this is where the real party truly begins.”

In an instant, tables were being pushed against walls and the entirety of the room was being used as a dance floor with one long table in the center, while pairs of people began to pull each other out and other heros started playing an upbeat jig. Watching at the edge of the crowd you began to clap to the thrumming, rhythmic music as Diarmuid pressed his wide chest against your back, holding you steadily. You had never seen anything quite like it. If someone had told you earlier in the day that you’d be standing in a pub surrounded by irish heroes that night, watching Cu alter spin Scathach in a public dance, you would have thought they were joking but now, it was all impossibly tangible.

Song after song played and you happily spectated until suddenly, Diarmuid took your hand and started to pull you out towards the center of the room. Now, it was no secret that you were not a great dancer, quite the opposite in fact. Everything about moving your body to music, especially maneuvering around someone else's body as well, was a recipe for disaster with your clumsy nature. Here Diarmuid was, though, well aware of your downfalls and yet completely sure in his attempts to lead you out into the fray.

“Come with me,” he urged, voice honeyed and cloyingly sweet. Seeing him so open and free made it near impossible to say no, so you allowed him to lead you, situating the two of you close to the stage next to the long table. As the drums began to pick up their pace you started to doubt yourself once again.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you whispered, looking at the people around you and searching for judgemental gazes, though you found none.

“Well for starters you need to get a little closer, like this,” Diarmuid muttered back, pulling your waist close to him and letting your chest press flush against his. No matter how many times you felt the great knight’s body against yours, filled out with corded muscle seemingly sculpted by the gods, you would never stop blushing when it happened. It was welcome though, and the closeness let you feel a bit more secure when suddenly, before you even knew you were moving, the two of you were spinning wildly with the other dancers. 

“How do you even know this dance,” you cried out joyfully, laughing with him as you twirled and stepped about the floor, catching the eye of every man and woman with your beauty. 

He chuckled deeply, “I don’t”, before whisking you into another spin. It was all like a dream, so beautiful and freeing that it made you feel for the first time like you were truly Diarmuid’s equal. No longer were you master and servant or knight and quarry, you were simply two lovers surrounded by a new type of family, spinning and dancing for all of eternity. Soon enough the dance felt natural, stepping in time becoming as easy as breathing. Before you knew it a voice cried out from above you.

“Oi, Mastah!” Cu cried from his spot on top of the table, holding out a hand to help you up. Without a second thought you allowed him to boost you up and began dancing with him on the tabletop, laughing and stumbling through the rhythmic steps. “You never told me you and Diar were gettin’ serious! Congratulations!” He shouted above the deafening drums, fiddles, spoons, and pipes. 

“Thank you!” You yelled back before Fergus stole you away from the blue clad hero. It must have been almost 10 minutes where you spun around with any hero that offered you their hand before making it back to Diarmuid. For a split second you worried that he would be jealous, but when you saw his face he was radiating with a wild pride. As the song changed, he led you away from the floor and you laughed into eachothers arms.

“This is fantastic Diarmuid!” You said, clinging to his chest and relishing in his newfound freedom, “why haven’t you ever brought me to one of these before!,”

“I dunno, I guess I just thought you wouldn’t like this part of me. I’ll always be your knight, I promise you that, but bein’ a knight isn’t always chivalry. Sometimes this is what it means to be a member of the Fianna,” You hated how he seemed almost ashamed of the wonderful world he had brought you into, so before he could continue apologizing you silenced him with a kiss.

He pulled you in deeper, letting his lips move against yours, the kiss tasting like the sweet cake you’d eaten and the guinnesses he had drank; a dark mix of temptations pulling you under his spell. Looking at the free man in front of you, you knew that he didn’t need his love spot to lure in women, simply existing was enough to draw you into his spell. You only pulled away from the heated embrace when you needed to breathe so badly your lungs burned, gasping for air as your head spun. 

“I owed you a kiss,” you wheezed as he wrapped a sturdy arm around your waist, “you won the bet,”

“I love you woman,” he growled back, kissing you once again up against the cool brick wall of the pub. It felt like an eternity in his arms, publicly showing your affections in a way that you never had before, and yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. You had drunk no alcohol, just the first pint of a non-alcoholic malt, and yet you were high on the wild energy of the people around you. Nothing mattered except you and Diarmuid.

Out of the blue he pulled away and looked you deep in the eyes. “Marry me,” he whispered.

“What?” Your heart was pounding so loud you could barely discern it from the drums.

“Marry me!” He shouted now, laughing wildly. “You are the only woman I could ever love. Not only have you accepted me for who I am, _mo ghaoil_ , you have accepted my chosen family as well. I had hoped to ask you in some grand event, but looking at you now I know there will never be a clearer moment. I have my mother’s wedding ring here in my pocket. Marry me, take this ring, become so much a part of me that you are my legend. I swear we will never be parted, so long as I live. Marry me, master!”

It was crazy. Even through his drunkenness, you could tell that every bit of what Diarmuid said was genuine. You could see a future now, not just spanning your human life but far into the milenia ahead. You could see a little cottage where the two of you could live unbothered, maybe with a dog or even little children, tiny knights dashing around the front garden with their father in tow. Everything had fallen perfectly into place. Your answer was plain and simple. 

“Yes,” 

He swept you up into his arms then then, spinning you around as the crowd of onlookers, your newfound family, cheered you on. The rest of the night was a wonderful, colorful blur of congratulations and music. You couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I may or may not have watched Titanic today and gotten so excited that I pushed back what was supposed to be today’s song just to write this haha... the song is An Irish Party In Third Class which is featured on, you guessed it, the Titanic soundtrack. I hope you love this little oneshot as much as I do, and I also hope that your rolls on this years summer servants are bountiful!!! I’m hoping for Saber Medb so I have to wait till the second banner, but good luck to you regardless of who you’re rolling for. As usual, song or character suggestions and other comments are always welcomed, they make my day. Thanks for reading!


	4. To Have A Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Diarmuid learns that you don’t consider Chaldea home he does everything in his power to make you feel differently, not knowing that the answer to his problem was right under his nose all along.

Chaldea was not what anyone would describe as a ‘homey’ environment. The walls were white and sterile, always smelling of the harsh chemicals the staff used to lean the endless linoleum floors. Even the rooms were bare bones, only coming pre-furnished with a small twin bed with crisp, white sheets, a metal dresser, and a wall shelf for storing small personal effects. It wasn’t all bad, though. Each bedroom had an adjoining bathroom, complete with a jacuzzi tub and shower, a small hint of luxury in an otherwise sterile environment. Diarmuid, as well as many of the other servants, were more than happy with the living conditions provided by Chaldea, but he could always tell that you felt something was lacking.

The conversation between the two of you had happened long before romance bloomed, when truly you were just master and servant. He had been extolling the virtues of his personal room to some others as his table during breakfast when, as if out of thin air, you appeared and sat beside him. He remembered the day clearly, because it was the first time he had ever truly realized just how stunning you were. 

“What’s your room like?” You had asked, setting your tray down on the cafeteria table and looking intently into Diarmuid’s face. He didn’t remember exactly what he had responded, but the disappointment on your face was definitely memorable. “Sorry,” you had explained, “I just didn’t know if you guys got special rooms or something.” Something about your disappointment resonated deeply with him, leaving a lasting soft spot in his heart for you.

Time passed, as it has a tendency to do, and the two of you began courting. Usually Diarmuid would take you back to his room, which he had filled with small trinkets and gifts he found around Chaldea or traded DaVinci for. You always looked over his collections with awe, even when they were made up of the most menial things. He figured out why the first time you had taken him back to your room.

It was a bad day, he remembered distinctly. You had been experiencing a terrible headache since lunch and had taken him back to your room in the search for migraine medication. When you went into the bathroom to scour the medicine cabinet for your painkillers, Diarmuid was shocked at the lack of, well, anything. 

Your room looked like nobody lived in it. The bed was made up with military precision and, though he was loath to admit this, when he peeked into your dresser there were nothing but identical uniforms folded neatly within the drawers. The small shelf on your wall was entirely bare and collecting dust. You exited your bathroom quickly but the damage was done. 

“Why is your room so bare, Master?” Diarmuid asked, dragging a finger through the dust before wiping it off onto his pants.

You shrugged in response, flopping down onto the nearby bed. “I dunno, I guess I always just assumed I would be going back to my real home. When I came to Chaldea it was only to apply as a spare master so I didn’t bring anything but the clothes on my back and my phone. Figured I’d save money on my flight by not bringing luggage. I love everybody here, really I do, but this isn't my home. My home is thousands of miles away filled with people I’ll probably never see again for the sake of national security,”

The conversation had ended there, but since then Diarmuid had made an active effort to bring you things he found interesting. His hope was to make Chaldea your home. Months together turned to years, life got tougher with each passing day, the world continued to turn. One day, which was particularly uneventful, Diarmuid finally built up the courage to ask if his efforts had borne fruit.

———

“Diar, could you dim the lights while you’re up? Thanks,” you asked gently, gazing across the room towards the knight emerging from the bathroom. Diarmuid’s hair was still slick from his shower, shining gently in the lamplight of his personal quarters while he obliged. You were curled up in his bed, enjoying the feel of his expensive sheets against your freshly shaven legs. Soon after he slipped under the covers next to you, wrapping his arms around your soft body.

Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head Diarmuid shifted his body, allowing you to use his expansive chest as a pillow. Laying with him was always wonderful, especially when he was especially clingy. Warm and comfortable, it was easy to drift into a drowsy haze. You were safe from harm in the arms of your lover, what more could you ask for?

“Master?” he whispered gently, jostling you ever so slightly.

“Yes, Diar?” you responded. As he attempted to put together all the jumbled thoughts in his head you pressed gentle kisses to his exposed skin.

“Do… well, do you feel like Chaldea is your home now?”

You sat up quickly, searching for any sort of humor in Diarmuid’s face only to find that he was entirely serious. What was all this about? Was it appropriate to start to laugh? In all honesty, you didn’t quite have a solid answer to his question. The topic of  _ home _ was one that was tiptoed around within your mind and entirely off limits in real talk. That being said, you understood Diarmuid’s curiosity. 

Gently placing your head back into its place on his body, you let yourself go, “Chaldea will never be my home, Diarmuid, sorry to disappoint. If I’m being honest, it never had a chance. Why do you ask?”

Diarmuid looked pensive when you glanced up at him. There was no hint of disappointment in his visage, just a neutral sort of puzzlement. He wore the face of someone who had just discovered that the last piece of the puzzle didn’t belong to the puzzle in the first place, faced with a new puzzle all it’s own. “I raise your question with another,” he said gently, “are you familiar with my story?”

You nodded against him.

“One of the men who raised me was not my father but the god of love, Aengus Óg. When Grainne willed me away, we turned to him for help. In order to stay ahead of the Fianna and evade capture he gave us very simple instructions; we must never stay in a cave with one entrance, a house with one door, or a tree with one branch, we could never eat where we cooked, and we could never sleep where we ate. We had to keep moving eternally, never to remain in one place. There is a lingering tradition in Ireland where they call every flat roof or stone  _ leaba Dhiarmada agus Ghráinne _ , Diarmuid and Grainne’s bed. When I saw your room, empty and cold, I was reminded of all those years without house or home and I became determined to ease that burden weighing on your heart. I’m sorry that all of my efforts have failed, master.”

The pain in his voice was almost unbearable. Though you were exhausted, you managed to lift your head and press a soft kiss to Diarmuid’s lips, snapping him out of his melancholy. “Oh Diar,” you said, settling down at last to sleep, “Chaldea is just a place I’m staying. You’re my home,” 

Diarmuid made no further attempts to further the conversation, stunned into silence, so you drifted off into a pleasant sleep against him. He, on the other hand, was having an epiphany. It all began to make sense. Of course he never felt at home while running with Grainne, despite the fact that he always felt at home while traveling with the knights of Fianna. That dreadful woman, he had to restrain himself from cursing her name even after all that time, had stolen from him all of the joy in his heart, so even when they settled down in the short year before his death he was never home.

In Chaldea, on the other hand, he had you. From the moment he had stepped out of the summoning circle, you had welcomed him into your world with open arms. When he needed to take the relationship slow, you slowed down and allowed him to court you the old fashioned way. If he asked, you would rend the heavens for him with your fragile mortal hands if only for a chance to see his smile. While thinking deeper he realized that he would do the exact same thing. You had no need for sleeping potions or binding curses, because Diarmuid would gladly give up everything he had for your happiness and wellbeing. Never before in his life had he ever experienced anything like this, even with Fionn.

Looking downwards, he took in your sleeping form. You were so carefree in your sleep, so different from your usual stressed life. Nothing in the world was more beautiful to him than every part of you. If you were to disappear, Chaldea wouldn’t be his home anymore. No matter how many things he had lining his walls, or what furniture he built to flesh out his room; if you were gone there would be nothing differentiating the room from any other.

Maybe Chaldea had never been his home at all he thought, running deft fingers through your hair, maybe even the castle in Tara and his home by the ocean had never truly been home. Perhaps you had been his true home all along, and how beautiful it is to truly have a home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Today’s song is To Have A Home by Darren Criss. I’m on vacation in this really cool tiny inn run by some family friends right now, so my writing time has been cut down considerably this past couple days, but I hope this chapter has been alright despite that! As always, all comments are welcome, but I’m always looking for new songs to write to and new ideas for servants to write about. Thanks once again for reading, I hope you have a wonderful day!


	5. It’s Been A Long, Long Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the scars from your battle for humanity have faded and life is quiet once again you decide that it’s finally time to re-summon Diarmuid.

The earth had been safe for 6 years when you decided it was finally time to put your life back together. 

You had, against all odds, saved the world a second time and retired happily to a cottage on the coast of Ireland with Mash moving in right down the road. It was nice to be unknown again, to wander the small village market in search of ingredients without having to worry. At least once a week the former Demi-servant would come down the road bearing a freshly baked pound cake and the two of you would sit in the study to share time together. Peace was, for the most part, returned to the world. That didn’t make the nightmares any easier though.

It wasn’t rare for you to wake up screaming, reaching out into the emptiness of your room for something or someone long dead. When it came time to sleep again after a warm cup of tea or a few chapters of a book you would return to a cold bed, no warm lover awaiting you. As the years passed the nightmares became fewer and the scars began to fade, but even after over half a decade you would still see people from your pasts in the corners of your vision; ghosts of a time long dead.

Work didn’t come easy nowadays, not that you actually needed work. There was an almost uncountable sum of money sitting in your bank account, years worth of a salary plus bonuses paid to you with interest from the Mages’ Association, with even more invested wisely with the help of Gilgamesh’s clairvoyance. Even so, it felt wrong to have idle hands after so many years of endless work. So you created a tiny studio where you painted, mostly watercolors of places you nearly forgot had ever existed. 

Still, something was missing. Though your dinner table was never empty, the chair at the head of the table always was. In your dresser and closet there were empty spaces, left open for a figure from the past. There was an armchair near the fireplace, a heavy leather thing with thick padding and a high back, that remained unused even by guests despite the fact that you never mentioned it’s original purpose. One day, you decided it was finally time to put the last piece of your life into place.

Wrapped in a thick knit shawl you made your way down the steep cliffside, bracing against the winds that threatened to blow you over if you made one wrong step. In the crook of your arm rested a basket filled with crystals and materials you had taken on your last day in Chaldea, all tied together neatly in a thin picnic blanket. The moon was full that night, floating high in the sky, and when your bare feet hit the sharp, rocky seashore you could feel your magic circuits begin to tingle after 6 years of disuse. When you checked your pocket watch it was 15 minutes to 3 AM: perfect. 

Slowly, the summoning circle was put into place, drawn in a mix of ink, silver, and your own blood, and the crystals were placed along the edge. At the last moment, just seconds away from the peak point of your mana, you placed your wedding ring in the second. It was a sturdy thing, made specifically for you by the hands of your lover almost a decade ago. It was time then, you could hear the grandfather clock in your little home ringing out, even while standing so far away.

“Let silver and steel be the essence,” your voice rang out clearly, even as the waves smashed against the shore just inches away, “let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let green be the color I pay tribute to. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the kingdom rotate.”

Even though your mana was at it’s height, you still felt a familiar, unrelenting burn rush through your veins. It was difficult without the aid of Chaldeas to concentrate enough power into the ritual, and an uneasy process already was made doubly difficult by the fact that you were never a proper mage, never trained in the craft or raised in a family of magus. All you had was a body of weak magical circuits and a dream, but that was more than enough. Even with your lack of strength you could feel a steady thrumming of power returning from the ritual. It was working.

“I hereby declare, your body shall serve under me!” As the power grew so did your voice. Even the waves seemed to respond to the change in mana, growing wilder and more uncontained the longer you drew the ritual out. “My fate shall be your sword! Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail, if you submit to this will and this reason, then answer!”

The grail truly was your secret weapon here. It had been a parting gift from DaVinci (oh DaVinci, how you missed her motherly guidance), snuck into your bag at the last moment right under the noses of officials. She had mentioned that you would need it and only after several years of wondering did you realize that it would allow you to summon a servant outside of a Grail war. You watched the golden cup carefully as it dissolved into the liquid lines, making the summoning circle glow even brighter than before.

Your heart was beating frantically as you continued. It was as if a thin red line was connected to the center of your ribs, drawing you ever closer to the glowing center of the circle with a pull you had to attempt desperately to resist. It was now or never, there would be no do-overs now that the grail was absorbed. “An oath shall be sworn here! I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven! I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell! From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraints, Protector of the Holy Balance!”

When you finally finished the chant, a brilliant light exploded from within the circle, almost knocking you off your feet. Every single muscle in your body burst into spasms, your magical circuits running dry. You guessed that they would remain that way for a while, but that didn’t matter at all anymore. As if beckoned by the power, waves encroached upon the pebbly beach, now reaching your ankles and washing away the remnants of the circle. When you gained the courage to look up, a man clad in green stood before you.

He wasn’t looking at you, instead focusing on the wedding band that rested in the palm of his hand. Relief flooded you in knowing that using it as a catalyst didn’t destroy it, but you still remained on edge. When his eyes finally fell on you, the servant spoke. “I am the first spear of the Knights of Fianna, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.” Your heart shattered for a moment and all of the reasons you had put off this summoning flooded back to your senses.

You knew that the chances of him remembering you were slim to none, but you hoped that everything you had done to prevent his memory being wiped had worked. Still, there was a flicker of hope deep within you when your eyes met and his face flushed. 

“Master?”

He was frozen there the same as you, two lovers reunited in the freezing waters of the Irish sea. “Diar, is that you?” You managed to whisper, though the air suddenly felt sharp and hard to breathe. He simply nodded in response as tears pricked at your eyes. Six years he had been gone. Six years you had woken up alone and cold in the night as sobs wracked your body and ghosts filled your head. Six whole years. But there, bathed in moonlight, it felt like no time at all. 

In a flash, his movements inhumanly fast, Diarmuid had you in his arms. Your body felt broken from the exertion but he held you up, burying his face in your hair and letting you cry into his chest. “ _ Mo cuishle, mo shíorghra _ ,” his voice was low and sweet, drawing you into him, “It’s alright, I’m not going anywhere” In a gently motion he lifted your left hand from its place on his back and slipped your ring back onto it’s proper finger. 

When you calmed down enough to speak, shivers were starting to make their way through your body. The night was cold and the water that enveloped your feet was definitely not helping, but you didn’t dare move from the vice of Diarmuid’s arms. “I wasn’t sure if you remembered me,” you said, holding your lover’s pale face in your hands gently, as if he could disappear at any moment, “it’s been a very, very long time Diar,”

He looked confused for a moment then, almost hesitantly he asked, “how long has it been since we have been together, Master?” You hesitated to answer.

“Six years,”

You braced for Diarmuid to be upset, but instead he just began to weep silently, tears running down his face and mixing with the ocean. “I apologize, Master,” he said, smiling sadly, “I trust that you had your reasons for waiting, but the loss of so much time with you is a lot for me to process. My love, you have matured so much since I last saw you. Your beauty only grows as you do. When I was torn away from you, you were still on the cusp of being a girl. Now you are truly a woman with a facade that rivals even Venus. I regret not being here to ease your time of growth but I hope that you’ll allow me to stay with you from this moment forth.”

It was true, you were no longer the 18 year old girl you once were, the years at Chaldea had aged you far beyond your years. Diarmuid’s earnest compliments, though, made you feel young again. It was like the first moment you laid eyes on him in the darkness of the summoning rooms, so charming and soft spoken. You had both aged since then, you more than he, but deep down you were the same two people yearning for love and acceptance.

He kissed you then, a gentle brush of his lips against yours. You could tell by the flush on his cheeks that he was still hesitant, afraid of scaring you away. It was interesting to think that you seemed just as transient to him as he did to you, both of you worried that one glance too long or touch too rough would turn the other into a phantom once again. Instead of letting that fear own you, you deepened the kiss, settling a hand into his hair and pushing his mouth back to yours.

You stayed that way, breathing life back into each other against the rocks and cliffside, until Diarmuid noticed you shivering. It must have been around 4 by then and the air had not warmed at all. Picking you up gently in a bridal style carry, Diarmuid pressed a final kiss to your forehead. “Where shall I take you, my love? You’ll catch your death of cold out here at this rate,”

“The cottage at the top of the cliff is ours,” you said, pulling your shawl tightly towards your body and nestling closer to the hero’s body. Quickly, Diarmuid began your ascent up the cliffside, never missing a step. It was nice to feel entirely secure in a way you hadn’t felt for years, both literally and figuratively. You knew that no matter what, Diarmuid would never slip or waver. He would be steadfast and sure, a guiding star towards the future, never missing a step. The trip to the top of the cliff was a quick one thanks to Diarmuid’s strength, and even once you were back on solid ground he continued to carry you towards the door.

“Your home is very beautiful,” he commented, gazing at your small vegetable garden and the soft flowers growing beside your door.

“Our home, Diarmuid, I had it built for us,” Your correction held no true annoyance, just a firm reminder that he belonged there with you. There was still one large hurdle the two of you would have to jump through, though, waiting within the cottage.

Before you were able to begin forming a way to bring the topic up, the door to the cabin creaked open, revealing a small, chubby-cheeked boy within. Diarmuid set you down then, gently, and froze like a deer in headlights. “Mama? Where did you go?” The little boy asked, filled with drowsy, wide eyed wonder for the stranger beside his mother. You flew to his side, picking the toddler up.

“I was just going down to the beach darling, I didn’t want to wake you” you said, placing a soft kiss on the child’s nose. Looking back at Diarmuid, you noticed that he was still frozen, eyes locked on the small child. “Diar, would you like to meet him?” 

The servant nodded, approaching cautiously. Every movement was calculated perfectly to appear as non-threateningly as possible. “Hello, little one,” he cooed, offering a soft smile, “what’s your name?” 

“Iollan!” Your toddler responded proudly, “I’m 5 years old!”

Diarmuid seemed to still once again, lost in thought. “Iollan is a very good name, I had a son named Iollan once,” 

Before the conversation could continue, you butted in, “alright little guy, you need to get back to bed,” When you carried Iollan back to his room the cottage was quiet, only your bond allowed you to recognise that Diarmuid was following you silently through the house, pausing to look at trinkets and decor. It took a while to calm the small boy, but soon enough your son was asleep and you were able to join your lover in the living room.

He was looking deeply at one of your framed watercolors, pacing the length of the room and breathing heavily. The only thing that managed to still him was your presence. At the moment you entered he paused, looking at you with wide, tear filled eyes. “Is he…” he whispered, gazing at the dark doorway you had entered from.

“Yes,” you replied. Diarmuid’s eyes widened in shock and he sat down in the big leather armchair, the one you’d bought in the hopes that he would use it, as he attempted to collect his thoughts. “He’s yours,”

“When did you find out?”

You paused. It was going to be difficult, that much you knew, but there was no point in hiding the truth. “About a week before the final battle. I figured whether I lived or died you would be gone, so there was no point in burdening you with it. Mash helps me take care of him, she lives really close. Originally we had intended on moving to America or Japan, but once we thought about it I decided it would be better if he grew up where his dad did,”

Diarmuid’s tears were still flowing freely. This was not his first brush with fatherhood, he had helped raise 5 children with Grainne in their time together, but  _ this  _ child, your child, a child made entirely from love, that was something else entirely. He had missed six years with a child he didn’t know existed until moments before. “Does he… does he know about me?”

“I’ve told him all about you, and how much you would have absolutely loved him if you didn’t have to go away for a long time. There are some details I’ve saved for when he’s older, like the fact that you’re a hero of legend, but Iollan idolizes you. Mash has caught him more than once playing ‘spears’ out in the garden, just like his daddy,”

It was Diarmuid’s turn to choke out an ugly sob, laughing a pathetic, wet laugh. “Of course he’s just like me, he’s our son…  _ our _ son,”

“I understand if this is too much for you,” you approached him, laying a hand on his shaking shoulder, “I’ve prepared some money for Iollan and I to travel with if you need some time to-” Diarmuid stood quickly, cutting you off with pure shock. 

“No, I need to make this perfectly clear,” he muttered, pulling you into another tight hug, “I will never leave you or my son ever again. You will have to pry Iollan away from my cold, dead hands if you intend to take him away from me now.” You smiled softly. There was no doubt in your mind that he meant every word,. As his tears subsided, he asked you gently, “where’s our room, I think we both need a long rest,” You led him down the hall with no qualms.

Your room was small and cozy, barely fitting your large bed, dresser, and desk, but Diarmuid looked at it like it was the most beautiful place he had ever seen. In the light of the new dawn, with the sun barely peeking through the curtains, you both dressed down out of your clothes and settled yourselves into the bed. It took no effort to remember the feeling of DIarmuid’s scarred skin against your own, existing with him was as easy as breathing. As you fell asleep wrapped in his tight embrace you knew that you’d never wake up alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Today’s song is It’s Been A Long, Long Time by Kitty Kallen, which is probably most well known right now for being used at the end of Avengers:Endgame. I hope you enjoyed today’s story, because I absolutely loved writing it. Speaking of which, what types of stories do you guys like to read? Do you like the types of one shots I write now, or is there a type of storyline you’d rather read? I’d love any suggestions! Comments, as usual, are always welcomed. Thanks again <3


	6. Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is a pest, but sometimes even his mistakes are helpful. After Diarmuid helps you evade a potentially sticky situation you’re forced into close quarters with him while stripped of your curse resistance. Is it his love spot that’s drawing you to his side, or could it be that you truly do care for him?

Over the last year while you worked at Chaldea you had grown very accustomed to the feel of your bed. Though you often were out in the field correcting singularities or collecting items you always looked forward to the warm embrace of your mattress and high thread count sheets. Even your pillows were familiar and extremely specific, fitted with special cooling gel inserts over the memory foam. It wasn’t a stretch to say that you would know if you woke up in a bed that wasn’t yours. Funnily enough, it took you longer than you thought it would.

Stretching out, you slowly came to consciousness, letting your eyes remain closed as the rest of your body began to wake with your mind. It was a good minute before you made a small grunt, displeased. Your head was throbbing, sending waves of intense pain out towards your extremities. There was something odd about the pain, though, something that seemed to radiate towards the very core of your being. Only when you opened your eyes and noticed the sheets wrapped around your body were grey did you realize you were most definitely not in your bed.

You snapped up from your relaxed slouch quickly then, looking around quickly and examining yourself for any strange runes or damage. There were no bindings or spells keeping you in place, so you ruled out Raikou and Kiyohime as your captors. Unfortunately, the room was unfamiliar to you. It was spartan in most aspects, not containing any dead giveaways as to its owner. The longer you stayed awake, the less frightened you became; if whoever took you from wherever you had been before wished you any ill will, they probably would have been waiting for you to wake up.

That was another strange thing. As you shifted, sitting on the edge of the bed and letting your legs dangle over the side, you attempted to remember what you had been doing before you woke up only to find your mind blank. There were memories of breakfast, you had toast and tea with Mash in the library while researching for the next singularity, but almost immediately after breakfast your mind was entirely blank. As if heaven sent, a small thud sounded from the attached bathroom along with a soft curse in what sounded like a gaelic language.

“Hello?” You called out.

“I’m sorry master, I’ll be with you in a moment!” The servant called back. Almost instantly upon hearing his voice your heart warmed, dulling the pain in your head considerably. You would know that soft, courteous tone anywhere. It belonged to Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the servant you had been secretly admiring from afar since you summoned him months earlier. “It’s Diarmuid, I apologize for my absence. How are you feeling?” He asked, still in the other room, “do you remember what happened?”

Your face heated suddenly as you imagined the knight carrying you back to his bed and tucking you in ever so tenderly. “No, I don’t remember anything except breakfast this morning. It is still Wednesday, right?” There was a slight tremor in your voice as you asked. It was worrying enough already that you had potentially lost hours of your day, you couldn’t imagine the chaos outside the door if you had just gone missing for days.

“Yes. It’s Wednesday evening now, you’ve been sleeping for several hours,” Diarmuid said before quickly adding, “I promise I will be out soon, I am simply attempting to fix my hair. I’m afraid that pride is a sin I know too well.” 

“How did I end up here anyways?” You busied yourself with trying to make your bedhead look presentable, raking through your hair with your fingers and gazing into a nearby mirror. If you were going to finally work up the courage to speak to the most handsome man you had ever seen, you weren’t going to do it looking like a small animal was nesting in your hair. 

You could hear him stuttering in the other room and smiled gently. Maybe, deep down he was just as nervous as you were, preening himself the same way you were in the other room. “I hope this does not reflect badly upon my honor as a knight and your servant, but I simply saw you sleeping against the wall outside my door and brought you into my room. I am aware that there are servants here that… well if they found you in such a position they would take advantage of it.” 

As he explained himself, your heart seemed to swell further. There was just something about his bashful voice that sent shockwaves directly to your heart. You had admired him from across the rooms and felt the same way for a long time, but the effects just seemed to be magnified now that you were so close to him. “Thank you Diarmuid, I truly can’t thank you enough for this,” He exited the bathroom then, wiping his face down with a fluffy white towel, and smiling brilliantly.

That’s when it hit you. The memories of the morning flooded back suddenly. You had been with Merlin, seeking advice on how you could finally approach Diarmuid. You figured because of his clairvoyance he could help you choose the best option for asking Diarmuid out without insulting his fragile, old-school sensibilities. Instead of offering advice, the wizard had given you a sketchy looking potion and told you it would help out. As Diarmuid pulled the towel away from his face, you knew exactly what that concoction had done. Your curse resistance was gone. 

Part of you had always wondered what it felt like for the women who fell in love with Diarmuid because of his curse. You imagined it would feel like a sudden change, a flip being switched inside your chest. Instead, you found that it was most like a slow, ever present pull dragging you closer to him. Every feature on his face was a thousand times more defined, every inch of skin more flawless, and his eyes,  _ oh his eyes,  _ they seemed to glow with a molten golden shine. Maybe it was the fact that you had been attracted to him before his love spot ever affected you, but the curse only seemed to heighten the attraction you already felt for him.

Suddenly looking away and hiding your face in your hands, you could feel the confusion radiating off of Diarmuid in waves. “I remember what happened now,” you groaned, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. The room felt sweltering, as if even being close to the knight would make your body implode. “You need to bring Merlin here, now,”

“What’s wrong?” Diarmuid asked, approaching cautiously and sitting beside you on the bed. God, had he always smelled that good? It was like they modelled every dark, forest-y Yankee Candle scent after him. It hurt your soul to reject him, almost as if you were being rended in two, but you managed to push him away gently and turn away, though the pull only affected you more the more you fought it. “Master, what has he done, how can I help you?” 

“He took my fucking curse resistance!” You snapped before squeezing your eyes shut once again, “please, just go find him. Hell, you don’t even need to bring him back here, just find out how the hell to fix this!” It took a moment for Diarmuid to process what they meant for the both of you, but you heard him gasp when the realization hit him. 

“Master I-“ He couldn’t even finish his sentence without falling into a stunned silence. When you heard a harsh whoosh, you finally turned to face Diarmuid and found him shaking with rage, having summoned Gae Dearg and Gae Buidhe. “I cannot promise that I will maintain my honor as a knight after finding Merlin,”

Trembling, you stood and placed a hand on his cheek. The motion was as easy as breathing, as if the curse was simply removing your pretenses about what was appropriate, but you jerked your hand away quickly when Diarmuid huffed out a laboured breath, turning his face away. “Please, just go find out how to fix this,” you said softly, letting your eyes fall to the floor as he stormed out of the room.

It was probably an hour before he returned. In that time you had managed to avoid a major panic attack and freshened up in the bathroom, washing your face with cold water and brushing your teeth with a still-packaged toothbrush you managed to find under the sink. The tug on your chest only got worse as the farther away Diarmuid got. Suddenly you felt much more sympathy for Grainne. You too would have done almost anything to avoid being parted from the green knight, especially if the only other option was to marry an aging man. When the door creaked open you braced yourself for another wave of that strange tugging pain, but it never came. 

Opening one eye and peering at Diarmuid, you noticed that he had crudely taped several bandages over his mole and was holding out a tray of food to you. You took it quickly with a soft  _ thank you _ . The bandages, you noticed, were helping to dull the sheer magnitude of the curse but didn’t nullify it completely. It seemed that once you viewed the love spot it’s influence would follow you even when it wasn’t visible. Before you saw the food you had forgotten just how hungry you were, but now that there was an active reminder that your last meal had been a small breakfast many hours prior you were ravenous. “I apologize for my tardiness, Master,” Diarmuid mumbled, gazing at the food in your lap, “I’m afraid that me and Merlin got into quite the scuffle and I lost track of time.”

“What did he say?” You asked. Looking at the small spread in front of you, which included a still warm grilled cheese sandwich, a small cup of tomato soup, a few slices of peach, and a glass of water, you chose to eat the grilled cheese first. 

While you ate Diarmuid explained, though he still refused to look directly at you. “He told me that the effects of the mixture he gave you will only last for 24 hours, but I suggest that once that time has passed you should immediately visit the infirmary. After I retrieved the information, I’m afraid to say that I used violence to assure that he will never do anything like that ever again to you or anyone else on the staff. He’s not dead, but I am sure he has learned his lesson,”

“Good,” you exclaimed around a mouthful of grilled cheese before taking a long swig of water, “I shouldn’t be out in the hallways right now anyways. If Serenity tried to hug me I’d be toast, not to mention the other cursed servants or objects around here that I’ve never had to worry about before.”

Diarmuid gave a sober nod before continuing. “Now, I suppose we should talk about what the arrangements will be while you wait this out,” You gulped. This, you supposed, would be the moment he expressed that he had no feelings for you and that he would be leaving for the duration of your stay in his room, subjecting you once again to hours of that awful pulling, not to mention the broken heart you’d have to cram back into your chest. 

“Yeah, I guess we should,” Though you tried your best to look unbothered, you were sure that Diarmuid saw right through you.

“I’m aware that when women become bewitched by my curse it can be quite uncomfortable to be away from me. I am more than willing to stay here with you until tomorrow morning to help alleviate any of this discomfort,” Well that was unexpected. “If there is anything that I can do to assist you, please don’t hesitate to ask,”

You were dumbfounded for a moment as you thought his offer over. For what it was worth, this would probably be the only time where Diarmuid would ever allow you to be this close to him, so you wanted to experience as much of him as possible. On the other hand, though, the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable and impose your feelings on him. In the end, you decided that asking for what would make you feel better wouldn’t cause any harm.

“You can totally say no to this,” you prefaced, causing the knight to cock one eyebrow up, “but it would be nice if you could sit up here on the bed with me.” He nodded and, without a second thought, lifted your now empty tray up off your lap and set it down on the nearby bedside table.

“If it helps ease the pain, I would be more than happy to help,” It took a moment but soon enough Diarmuid was sitting beside you, his bare forearm brushing up against your arm gently as he settled in. With the growing heat in the room you assumed that it was emanating from his body but in fact his skin was blissfully cool against yours, a respite from the oppressive, sweltering air that threatened to smother you. “Is this good?’ He asked, cheeks flushed a brilliant pink once again.

Through your embarrassment and relief you choked out, “yeah, thanks,” before resting your still throbbing head against the cool metal headboard behind you. Each minute felt like an hour, with the curse chipping away at your ability to stay upright and in your own personal bubble. After what must have been almost 45 minutes your eyelids were beginning to droop, and your body was beginning to lean almost involuntarily toward Diarmuid's blissful coolness. You wanted to sleep, to rest until this nightmare was over, but the pull and the heat of the room combined made it impossible to get comfortable enough to relax. Finally, you snapped. 

“How the hell did women survive you?” You yelled, dragging your nails roughly across your scalp and squeezing your eyes shut. Thankfully Diarmuid found the humor in the situation, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I can’t imagine walking down the street seeing a random guy, and suddenly feeling like this. This literally feels like the worst sickness I’ve ever experienced. The room is sweltering and you feel like an ice pack, my head is pounding, and I feel like there’s some sort of super strong magical string attached to my rib cage dragging me towards you at all times! This was so much easier when I could just ignore this damned curse,”

Chuckling lightly, Diarmuid removed your hands from your head gently, the cold of his palms blissful against the thudding pulse in your wrists. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t like the answer to that question, master,” He whispered. In a slow shift, he pulled you against him, letting your back rest against this chest and dematerializing his armor into a much softer set of pajamas. 

“Try me,” you shot back. In a moment you were not proud of you followed your instincts, turning your head so you could bury your nose in the soft skin of his shoulder. You felt his whole body tense against yours before he could answer, but he heaved a long breath and gave in to you.

“Many women found their symptoms abated once they spent the night with me,” he responded, embarrassed, “the love would remain, but the pain and discomfort would dissipate,” 

“Well isn’t that what I’m doing? I can’t imagine being able to fall asleep feeling lik- oh,” You looked nervously up at Diarmuid and were assured this was just as awkward for him as it was for you. There was a moment, just a singular millisecond, where the mixture of his skin and his scent and his pull emboldened you to say the things you thought deep in the darkest recesses of your heart. “Is that off the table?”

The moment the words left your lips you regretted in, feeling Diarmuid tense up once again. In a second he had removed himself from the bed and was pacing the length of the room with his head in his hands, obviously distressed. “Diar, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking-“ You started to apologize but Diarmuid hushed you, firm but kind.

“This is not your fault,” he said, finally letting himself look you straight in the face, “I just can’t let myself do this to you,” There was a hunger in his eyes, an unrestrained yearning boiling just below the surface of the molten gold of his irises. He laughed for a moment, like a man starved, before turning his gaze away once again. “You are the most stunning woman I have ever met, but you are my Master and your feelings for me are driven by this curse, not your heart. I cannot, in good conscience, bed you when you will regain clarity tomorrow and regret everything. I know that I offered to help, but that is the one thing I cannot do for you no matter how much I am tempted,”

Your heart skipped a beat as you listened to him pour his heart out and you were sure it wasn’t the curse’s fault this time. “Do you want to know why I went to Merlin in the first place,” you asked, getting the knight’s attention. Diarmuid, ever polite, nodded curtly and averted his eyes. “I was trying to find the best way to ask you if you were interested in me without making you uncomfortable,” Hysterical giggles began to rise up through your chest, overtaking the curse entirely with their presence. “So I suppose Merlin thought the best way to get us together was to get rid of all my sensibilities and drop me off outside your door,”

Diarmuid took it in but still didn’t approach, leaning against the nearby wall and crossing his arms across his chest. “It’s not that I believe you’re lying to me master, I would never distrust you, but I know what lengths people who have been affected by my curse will go to in hopes of curing their fevers. How do I know that you won’t have changed your mind tomorrow once your body stops yearning for mine?”

You thought for a moment before responding. He was entirely right to be distrustful, but there had to be some way that he would accept your affections as honest despite the curse. Suddenly an epiphany came to your mind. “I think I have a way to settle this,” you said, holding a hand out to Diarmuid in the hopes of leading him back to the bed. Thankfully he took your lead, coming back to sit at your side though refusing to touch you quite yet.

“For tonight, we can lay here together. You can help me get rid of this stupid pain and we can both get some rest. If, in the morning when all this has worn off, I decide to stay in bed with you you’ll know my feelings aren’t just based on this curse, if I get up and leave you’ll know that this was the curse talking and not me,” To you the idea seemed genius but Diarmuid still seemed skeptical.

“I will not bed you, though, even if you remain here with me after you wake tomorrow,” he muttered as you nodded in agreeance, “if you truly do have feelings for me I wish to court you properly and assure that we share our bodies out of love, not simply necessity. I want you to want  _ me _ , all of me, not to want relief” Even though thinking about sleeping with Diarmuid in the future was blush-worthy there was something deeply romantic about the way he held carnal pleasure so reverently. 

Settling against his chest and snuggling close, you sighed, “I guess we have a deal then,”

“I suppose we do,”

Once Diarmuid settled down and started to rub comforting circles into your shoulders it was easy to ignore the small, sharp tugs at your heart and sleep. Your dreams were all pleasant, filled with endless green pastures and dark enchanted forests. You were sure that there were some of Diarmuid’s better memories, making their way from his dreaming mind to yours through your mana connection. When you woke up, you felt like an entirely new woman.

The first thing you did when your eyes fluttered open was look at Diarmuid’s sleeping face and check if the curse really didn’t have any effect on you anymore. Thankfully, the painful pull and sweltering heat from the night before were entirely gone. You did notice, though, that you appreciated more of the small, beautiful details of his face that had popped out to you the night before. Confident in the fact that your feeling’s for the knight were entirely your own, you settled yourself back into his arms and waited for him to wake. There would be a lot to talk about once he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I’m sorry that the chapter is a little late today, I got super busy and didn’t pick my prompt till super late. Hopefully you enjoyed this litte angsty fluffy pre-relationship fic. Today’s song is Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow by Ben E. King, a song I’ve wanted to write a fic for for what feels like forever lol. As always, comments make my day and I love hearing what you have to say about my stories. Thanks again!


	7. As The World Falls Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Chaldea’s annual Halloween masquerade ball you spend the night dancing with a handsome stranger. Will his affection be enough to pull you away from Diarmuid, the man you’ve been trying to woo for months?

“Are you sure this thing will work DaVinci?” you griped, touching the delicate beading on your new mystic code while the genius started lacing up the corset, “It seems a little far-fetched to think that these masks will actually conceal the servant’s identities…” DaVinci responded by tugging the laces sharply. Wheezing, you gripped a nearby countertop. “What was that for?”

“That was for doubting me! And _this_ -“ DaVinci tugged tightly again, “is so you’ll look spectacular out there.” With that, she tied the laces into a bow and tucked them into your skirt, smiling brightly. You, on the other hand, were still reeling from the loss of breath. Once the room stopped spinning you lifted your head and let go of the counter, revealing angry red marks where the edge had bitten into your hands. Halloween had always been one of your favorite holidays but this was the first time you’d had so much effort put into one costume. It’s just one of the perks of being in charge of saving the world you supposed. 

“Why don’t I get a mask again?” 

“Because that takes away all the fun!” DaVinci started pouting then, fussing with the dress for a bit before moving on to putting up your hair, “how is some handsome suitor supposed to ask you to dance if they don’t know who you are?”

“DaVinci, you know there’s only one suitor that I’d ever dance with and he’d never ask,”

Before the disappointment in your voice could alert DaVinci to the fact that something was wrong, Roman rushed into the room holding up a rather skimpy pink costume. “DaVinci!” He shouted, slamming the door behind him, “when I said I wanted to go as Magi-Mari, I meant a genderbent version not...this!” Laughter filled the room, though Roman was entirely not amused. Only after throwing a fit for a moment did he notice your costume, his jaw dropping. 

“What, do you like it?” You giggled, doing a little twirl and earning a glare from DaVinci, who had just finished pinning up a segment of hair.

“Like it? I love it! You’ve really outdone yourself DaVinci, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a costume that… extravagant,”

The genius smiled in response once she had wrangled you back to your original position against the counter. When she was finally done with her masterpiece she allowed you to turn once more and face the mirror Mash had rolled in prior to the costume fitting. “Well, how do you like it?”

You took a moment to look at the dress before beaming, “I think it’s wonderful. Now explain how all of this is gonna work?”

——

“Why do I have to do this again?” Diarmuid groaned from his seat on Fionn’s bed as the long haired king put on his horrendous salmon costume.

“Because you’re my knight and I told you to,” Fionn quipped back, “Besides, Master asked everyone to be there. If we don’t want to end up getting burned for prisms by DaVinci we need to show up.” At the mention of you Diarmuid’s face heated up suddenly, turning him red all the way to the tips of his ears. This didn’t go unnoticed by Fionn, who began to smirk and wiggle his long, sequined tail. “Well, well, well, is my chivalrous knight thinking about approaching our Master to dance?” Diarmuid just flushed a darker pink, hand flying up to cover his love spot.

“I won’t say I didn’t think about it,” muttering, he picked up the delicately painted boar mask that had been dropped off earlier that day, tracing it’s details absentmindedly. “DaVinci said these masks will hide our identities until midnight, even to other servants, so I can only assume it would nullify my curse too. Master has always said she isn’t bothered by it, but it would be a good way to see if she’s just been faking. I know it’s a long shot, but I think-” Diarmuid was thrown suddenly out of his monologue by Fionn slapping him on the back roughly and laughing. Coughing up spit, he glowered at the older man.

“This is wonderful, Diarmuid! You can finally move on from Grai-“ 

Diarmuid didn’t need to hit Fionn to cut him off, his glare was enough. Fionn then hustled over to the door, gathering the last bits and bobs of his costume from Diarmuid’s floor as he hurried away, looking a bit more scared than amused.

“Well I should get going!” He chuckled nervously, “I hope I’ll see you out on the dance floor, or not! Because I won’t know if you are, you know, because of the masks and all. Good luck!”

With that Fionn slammed the door behind him leaving Diarmuid alone. Sighing, he flopped onto the bed and looked up at the blank ceiling in the hopes that an answer to his conundrum would somehow appear magically in the thinly painted plaster. Unfortunately no answers became known to him on the ceiling, the only things there were a couple cobwebs and a splatter that used to be a spider. The boar mask had fallen to the floor during his debacle with Fionn and now it stared up at him expectantly. _Well_ , he could imagine it goading him, _there’s no harm in going if she doesn’t know it’s you_. 

There was something inherently selfish about his reasoning for attending the masquerade party that seemed entirely new to Diarmuid. In his life he had lived for Fionn before living for Grainne, now he lived for his Master and worked almost exclusively towards the salvation of humanity while other servants of his caliber took up hobbies around Chaldea. Now, for the first time in many, many years he was about to do something entirely because it would benefit him and him alone. Slipping into the costume like it was a second skin and retrieving his mask, Diarmuid began to plan his grand introduction in great detail.

——

While waiting outside the large cafeteria-turned-ballroom you were starting to get incredibly nervous. DaVinci had insisted that it was only right for you to come in fashionably late, after all you _were_ the guest of honor, but having all that attention fall on you was enough to send your stomach into endless flips. Well, at least you hoped it was just anxiety wearing away at your stomach because the corset of your dress wasn’t helping at all. Not that you disliked the dress, it was probably the most gorgeous thing you had ever worn. 

It was a ballgown of white tulle with strands of silver thread woven throughout the semi-sheer top layer of fabric, The sleeves were large puffs reminiscent of clouds sitting slightly off-the-shoulder. As you paced the small hallway, the bottom of the skirt and petticoat swept gently across the floor with every step of your heeled feet. To say you looked like a literal angel would be an understatement. You also had to admit that it wasn’t as impractical as it looked. The fact that it was a mystic code allowed for the dress to fit less obstructively and always appear perfectly draped, DaVinci had even noted that if you ditched your heels the ensemble would be combat-ready.

You doubted that you’d be fighting physical battles once you walked into the teeming faceless mass of servants and staff waiting just a few meters away behind the closed cafeteria doors. Gulping at the thought, you checked the time. It was 10:08, just 2 minutes before you should be making your scheduled entrance. That wasn't nearly enough time to get your thoughts in order! As you watched the second hand on the clock tick and take your time away it became harder to keep your thoughts under control.

 _Don’t worry, just stay calm_ you muttered to yourself under your breath. The rules of the ball stated that everyone would reveal their identities at the stroke of midnight, which gave you just under 2 hours to find Diarmuid, dance with him, and get out before you completely embarrassed yourself. How hard could it be to discern a face from behind a mask, even if DaVinci had charmed them? As if on cue, the doors opened before you, revealing you to the crowd inside.

Your walk down the short stairway and into the room felt agonizingly long. Everyone was staring at you sharply from behind their safe anonymity but you were entirely exposed, trying your very hardest to focus on making sure you didn’t trip while still taking in all of the sights around you. What made this even worse was the fact that DaVinci’s enchanted masks did their job a little too well. While staring out at people you’d summoned and worked with for a little over a year you found that it was impossible to pinpoint features and assign them to people. Your brain refused to make connections that it had been making since you were an infant. There was also a pang of disappointment, how would you ever find Diarmuid now? It was a bit terrifying to have every bit of your recognition stripped away, but then again you realized there was something uniquely freeing about it.

Slowly, as if they were timing their movement’s in tandem with yours, a man wearing a boar mask approached the bottom of the stairs, holding out an arm and beckoning you towards the center of the room, which had been transformed into a wide open area for dancing. Looking deeply at the man in the mask you realized that you did not need to know him and no one would blame you if you never spoke to him again, especially once you found another dance partner later in the night. Strangely, your anxiety abated just enough for you to link your arm with his and follow him into the fray.

Mozart and the Phantom, the only two servants who had been excluded from this otherwise mandatory event, struck up the small chamber orchestra that sat nestled in the corner then. It was made up of members of Chaldea’s staff who started taking lessons from the masters in their free time. When the music began and you assumed a traditional ballroom position with your partner, you decided some conversation would be nice.

“Thank you for saving me over there,” you chuckled sheepishly. In return the man gave a charming smile, lips curling upwards almost wide enough to touch the bottommost tips of his mask.

“The pleasure is all mine, Master,” they responded suavely. There was a pleasantness in the timbre of the mystery man’s voice as he led you easily through the familiar steps of a waltz (thank god for DaVinci’s dance lessons the night before). It felt warm and familiar yet completely unknown at the same time. Whoever this servant was, you obviously had never paid close enough attention to them because their voice was intoxicating. He spoke again, still smooth and inviting, “I hope it isn’t too forward of me to say that you look ravishing in that dress,”

The heat that rose to your cheeks felt so new, so refreshing. Though you wouldn’t trade your job for anything in the world it also meant you were missing out on a lot of the experiences other people your age would get. This was probably the closest you’d come to going on a date with anybody for many, many years, maybe even ever if things didn’t go as planned. “It’s not too forward at all. Thank you for the compliment,” 

A somehow familiar smirk appeared on the stranger’s lips, “I have many more compliments waiting on the tip of my tongue, should I continue,” So this mystery servant had some sass, you noted. Your nod was slow and deliberate as to not give away that you were slowly but surely beginning to develop a major crush on whoever this servant was, though you were sure the look on your face gave you away completely. The servant continued once he received your permission. 

“You are not only beautiful now, but every day when you walk the halls here. Though the dress and makeup you wear enhance the natural beauty you exude, you wouldn’t need them to be the most beautiful thing in this room. Your beauty, though, is second to only your wit. You are a brilliant tactician Master, one of the best I have ever seen. I only wish that you would acknowledge these parts of yourself and give yourself credit where it’s due,”

Everything poured from the man like a fountain of praise making you beam, awash in its glory. Not only was this servant charming and kind, but they had obviously taken an interest in you long before you descended the stairs that night. Before you could even formulate a proper response the song was over. There wasn’t any other reasonable answer for your predicament but to ask this wonderful servant to dance with you for another song, right? You definitely only wanted to continue dancing with him so you could be polite and respond to his kind words…

One dance turned into two, which turned into ten, and before you even knew it almost 2 hours had come and gone while you danced happily with the same stranger. In so little time he had thoroughly wooed you, turning you away from every secure, safe thought of the world you’d known before. Still, something was nagging at you as the second to last song of the night began its long winded conclusion. That thing was Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.

For how long had you attempted to earn Diarmuid’s affections? How many months had you spent trying to build up the courage to ask out the servant who had stood happily by your side thick and thin? Here you were, giving in to someone you didn’t even know and completely ignoring the feelings you had been harboring for so long. It didn’t seem fair to be faced with a conundrum like this after only a few hours. 

“We need to talk,” you whispered, pulling your dance partner to the relative safety of a nearby wall as the song ended. The whole room was buzzing with excitement and people itching to see who they had spent the night conversing with. You, on the other hand, found yourself wishing this didn’t have to end. Thankfully, when you took a good look the mysterious man looked just as anxious as you were. 

“Thank you for tonight, really, it was amazing, but I don’t know if things are going to work out between us,” The sadness on the servant’s face made you cringe. It was impossible to formulate a good excuse without completely invading Diarmuid’s privacy, so you decided to stretch the truth a tiny bit in your explanation. “There’s a servant that I’ve been trying to talk to for a long time and I don’t think it would be fair to them if we took whatever happened tonight forwards,”

The countdown was starting now, with people chanting as the seconds ticked away, but the servant’s eyes stayed trained directly on yours. “Master, I need to tell you something, quickly-“ 3 seconds, his face was so close to yours. 2 seconds, you knew this was your last chance to do something without blowing it. 1 second, he had been so kind all night. At the literal last moment you launched yourself forward, pressing a firm kiss to the servant’s lips as he froze in shock.

When the clock struck midnight it was like a massive blanket of pressure was removed from the room as people finally removed their masks and shouted a celebratory _Happy Halloween!_ and yet you were still kissing the handsome stranger, relishing in the fantasy of a life that was not your own. When you opened your eyes to face reality your heart almost stopped.

There, right in front of you, was Diarmuid, removing a now obvious boar shaped mask from his face and blushing a bright red. You searched for the right words but found none came, stunned silence was all the moment deserved. Diarmuid too seemed to be searching for words, face a bright red. You ended up speaking first, embarrassed to the core. “So, uh, about what I was saying…”

“I understand Master, there is someone else and I respect that choice,” His eyes were sad and downcast as he spoke, a strange departure from his usual surefire nature, “but I hope you know everything I told you was true, even if you don’t return my feelings,” The only way you knew to respond was with laughter. Through Diarmuid’s confusion you reached out and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“The person I’ve been trying to talk to is you, Diar,”

“Oh…” Diarmuid was shocked, to say the least, practically trembling from joy. “If that’s the case, would you do me the pleasure of joining me for this final dance? This time knowing it’s me you're dancing with?”

How could you refuse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! After many hours in the car and very little sleep I am officially home from vacation! Thanks for being so very kind about my absence yesterday and giving me the leeway to spend my last day having fun in an unfamiliar city with my family. The next chapter is coming with a big announcement, so I hope you’re excited. This chapter’s song was As The World Falls Down by David Bowie. This chapter isn’t my best work, nor is it exactly what I wanted it to be, but I’m proud that I’m pushing through and not letting the imperfections get to me! As always, I love your questions and comments so keep them coming! You’re all amazing, thank you for reading and again for being so accepting of my need to take a day off.


	8. The Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your time with Diarmuid, however brief it may have been, made your short life a complete one. To end your story, you must first begin it anew in an endless circle of remembrance.

When your body hit the water, crumpling from the sheer force, the pain didn’t immediately register; the adrenaline coursing through your veins made sure of that. You had already been running for what felt like miles, pursued by something entirely inhuman. All the trees and brambles and shrubs were forgotten as you weaved towards an undetermined goal, hopefully towards something recognisable. Pushed to the limits of your humanity it had finally overtaken you, a flash of sharp teeth and entirely unnatural features, and with a swipe of it’s mighty clawed hand you had been thrown from the nearby ledge. 

You had anticipated this moment for months, since the moment you first found out Diarmuid’s secret. It was only a matter of time before your involvement in the existence of magecraft ended in your untimely demise. Instead of fighting the current dragging your body into the depths of the lake, you closed your eyes. There was something peaceful about the rushing of water around your ears. Every thought in your head was with the servant who had protected you for so long.

Diarmuid. His name was like a chant in your head, a reverent prayer. Diarmuid, Diarmuid, Diarmuid. Part of you wished he was there, accompanying you on your silent journey to the bottom of the lake. Not that he would accept your demise. Knowing him, he would fight to prevent the end of your life till his last breath as he had been for months, averting disaster after disaster. You didn’t blame him for any of it, just as you didn’t blame him for the predicament you were in at the moment. It was all because of your terrible luck.

Opening your eye’s you watched the light get further away, filtering through the gentle tossing waves above and reflecting off the endless sea of blue around your body. It had felt cold, jarring even, when you hit the surface but now it seemed to warm around you, holding you as Diarmuid barely ever could. Closing your eyes again, you let yourself think his name a little while longer. 

The inevitability of your death didn’t scare you anymore. Even as you breathed water in like air around you no panic marred your peace. Though life had been so short, so utterly minuscule in the face of Diarmuid’s eternity, you felt content. You knew you didn’t get to have an eternity like he and his found family did. It was good enough to be able to leave quietly, thinking of the only man you would ever love, instead of slowly watching him drift away as the years turned your hair grey and your skin sallow. Humanity was a burden you would happily bear to your grave.

Humanity. You had never given the concept of humanity and inhumanity much thought before meeting the servants who dwelled within the woods. Deeply, you knew that Diarmuid was inherently inhuman, created to serve and kill, and yet… there was something deeply human within him that you noticed more with every day you spent at his side, little flaws that proved he was not all powerful and all knowing, nor were his companions. He had quirks, things that perfect beings molded by god wouldn’t be given. Flashes of a man were there deep down buried in his endless perfection, reminders that he was human once. Having humanity and being human, you decided, were not inextricably connected.

Your lungs were starting to burn now, filling up and weighing you down like a brick settled within your cavernous chest. It was as if you didn’t truly exist anymore, your body turned into a hollow plastic vessel, your mind simply a little music box playing when it was wound up tight, waiting to run out of time and die away into the night. Was it night? You found it was hard to remember. No matter how foggy things got within your mind, though, one thing was crystal clear.

It was easy to see his face within your mind’s eye, all sharp corners and smooth skin and golden eyes that could pierce your soul from a mile away. His smile was familiar, a warm thing. He always wondered why you chose him, but loving him was never a choice, it simply was. Being with him felt right, spending soft stolen moments with each other in secluded corners of the forest or the darkness of your moon-bathed bedroom. You could almost imagine his arms around you, providing the oppressive pressure that bombarded you from all sides now. 

How long had it been since he held you? Diarmuid was so tender, so affectionate, and yet in the stress of the past weeks you found that there was so little time left for soft moments alone together. You regretted the lack of closeness. There truly was so much to regret, a life unlived slowly getting further and further out of your reach as the darkness around you became oppressive. You could barely see the sky anymore, not through the inky black water. It occurred to you that maybe if you had fought, thrashed and clawed your way to the surface, you would be safe right now, rescued by one of the people you had come to view as your family.

Their faces flashed through your head: Sherlock, DaVinci, Jeanne, Marie, Cu, Mordred, Merlin... they had all risked their fragile existences for you and Diarmuid to be happy. Each and every one had embraced you like family and this was how you repaid them, by dragging them into danger that had never previously existed and then forcing them through loss by dying so soon. It was hard to even think of them organizing your funeral once Diarmuid found and killed whatever it was that had chased you in the first place. He would never be the same.

In your haze, you saw an angel descending from above, all smooth white skin and dark hair. When it grasped you around the waist and began to drag you upwards towards the ever brightening light of what must have been heaven you curled instinctively closer to it’s warmth. How did you manage to get into heaven anyway? From the moment you had moved to this godforsaken town all you had done is tear people apart and break things. It made no sense that whatever god existed would be sending you up instead of down.

When you and the angel broke the surface of the water you were met with the strange urge to cough and gasp for air at the same time. Was this actually a trip hell? Perhaps your eternal torment was to drown for the rest of time, never being able to fully finish your death and move on. It was a fitting punishment, never being able to join whoever awaited you on your assigned side of the great heavenly divide. Through the ever growing muddle of colors that made up the world around you saw that the angel’s eyes were gold, the same brilliant gold of your beloved Diarmuid’s eyes. 

As darkness began to gather around the edges of your vision you closed your eyes for what may have been the final time. Thoughts raced through your mind, all the important memories you wanted to relive one last time before the grand finale. You found it humorous in a sick sort of way that having your life flash before your eyes as you died wasn’t just a trope used in books and movies. After a moment, you realised that Diarmuid took up quite a large portion of the memories you held closest to your heart.

Seeing Diarmuid for the first time, your first dreams of him, seeing his true form, the first night he spent in your room; the list went on infinitely. It was difficult to settle down for the longest sleep of your life, especially as the sounds of shouts around you began to ring out. _That’s hell for sure_ , you thought, before trying to pinpoint the moment your time in Barre had truly begun. If you were going to remember the whole story, it was worth it to start at the beginning. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re slightly confused by the cryptic nature of this chapter, thats ok! That’s on purpose! Cause I have BIG NEWS!!!! This one shot was deeply inspired by Twilight, one of the first book series I ever read and the one that truly sparked my interest in creative writing. With the release of the new book in the series I spent a lot of my downtime on vacation reading and realized that I had the makings of a really good AU, soooo without further ado...
> 
> I am writing a multi-chapter, multi-work Diarmuid/Reader Twilight Inspired AU! I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but most of the story/lore will be of my creation (with no vampires lol, I have to start from scratch) so even if you’ve never seen/read/enjoyed Twilight you might enjoy this work, you never know. A slightly edited version of this prologue and the first chapter will be up next Saturday and I will be updating that project once a week for the foreseeable future until I finish it. I hope that you’ll give the work a chance and support me in this project as I navigate it, because it’s something I am really excited about and definitely a test of my world building skills. If you aren’t interested that’s alright, there’s no need to fear, because I will continue my daily song-inspired oneshots for the foreseeable future as well, though in a new format once my 31 days of Diarmuid are done ;)
> 
> Anyways, this chapter was inspired by the song Cold by Aqualung and Lucy Schwartz. I am so grateful for each and every person who has read this work. I was always really afraid to write anything for the Fate fandom because I’ve had negative experiences with similar fandoms in the past but everyone has been incredibly kind, so thank you from the bottom of my heart <3 I hope as I move forward and branch out you’ll continue to be as kind and helpful as you are now. As always, I love to see your comments and I’d especially love to know what you think about my new project, so don’t be afraid to leave a comment. Thank you so much for reading!


	9. If I Never Knew You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reimagining of the Salem pseudo-singularity if Diarmuid had joined you and was one of the first sent to the gallows for witchcraft.
> 
> Spoilers for F/GO’s Salem singularity, TW for lots of talk about death by hanging

You remembered it clearly, so much more clearly than you wanted to. One moment you were sitting in court, so very sure that things would go your way, and the next Diarmuid and Mata Hari were being sentenced to death. Your first gut reaction was to scream, to reach out across the crowded courtroom and grasp his hand, but that would blow your cover altogether. You watched his face, so calm despite the guilty verdict, as he was led away in heavy iron shackles at Mata Hari’s side. It was never supposed to go this way.

You had been investigating the shallow grave at the edge of the forest with Robin when Abigail ran into the clearing, insisting that you needed to get back to town as soon as possible. Diarmuid and Mata Hari had been accused of witchcraft, their trial was to be held the moment they arrived to court. It was easy to recall the conversation you and Diarmuid had shared the night before, settled against each other on the roof of the Carter house, bathed in moonlight.

“Mata Hari and I attracted a bit too much attention today at the docks,” he had whispered into the crook of your neck, resting his cheek on your collarbone to listen to the thudding of your pulse, “we had to deny many interested parties who were drawn in by her beauty and my curse,” He had taken your small hand in his then, lifting it to his lips and delivering a chaste kiss to your slightly bruised knuckles. “The women here could never compare to you, in beauty, wit, or virtue. I have realized that I will never be enchanted by another the way I am enchanted by you, please remember that,”

His sentiments had wooed you then, easing some of the terror that seemed to wrack your body at all times. Now, they chilled you to the bone. He knew his actions, or lack of actions, would lead to his ultimate demise and yet instead of telling you he had reminded you of his love. For all he knew, it would be the last time he had the chance to. Watching him glance back at you apologetically before he exited the crowded courtroom was enough to make you want to cry. You knew you couldn’t do it there, though, not with the entire town of Salem scrutinizing your every move. Instead you waited, weak kneed and bleary eyed, as Robin helped you out of the courthouse and into the forest, allowing you and your servant’s to reconvene away from prying eyes. Only when you were there did you allow yourself to scream.

Your fury was like the wrath of a scorned god, willing to destroy anything and everything with no thought of consequences. It rivaled even the rage you had felt when deciding to attempt to defeat Goetia with only your fists. You slammed those same fists, the fists made from hands that had destroyed lives and cultivated love, into everything nearby. Trees, rocks, dirt, nothing was safe from your mourning wails while the rest of your servants stood back. It went on like that for what felt like a long time, but truly couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. When your anger at Matthew Hopkins and the citizens of Salem was gone it left only sharp pangs of fear, not even sadness lingered in the empty cavern of your chest. 

“Master,” Sanson was the first to speak, taking a daring step in your direction, “we need to think objectively about what the best course of action is here,”

Your first reaction was to snap. “How dare you ask me to think objectively! It’s Mata Hari and Diarmuid up there, not just faceless citizens we met a few days ago,” There was no restraining your shouts as you cornered the executioner. “You may be familiar with executing people you know Sanson, but I’m not! We just need more time,” The words were overly harsh but made your position clear; you weren’t going to let the servants die. “When are they scheduled to hang again?”

Circe responded this time. “Tonight, at twilight,”

“What are our options,” You started to pace, looking at the hesitant, silent faces of the servants around you. Not a single one spoke, eyes downcast. “Does nobody have an idea?” Still, silence surrounded you. Only when tears started to flow from your eyes did Robin step forward, clearing his throat.

His face didn’t give you much hope. “There are only two feesable options,” Robin said, voice a soft juxtaposition against your earlier frenzied shouts. “Either you use a command spell to stop them from going through with the execution, revealing our true nature to all of Salem and getting yourself sent to the gallows in response, or you let this execution happen tonight,” With that, your rage was renewed.

“No!” You shouted, over and over, “no, no, no, no, we’re not letting them die, _he_ can’t die!” Not a single one of the servants backed you up though. “There has to be some other way,” You lunged forward then, an act of passion, in an attempt to pound Robin’s chest with your now bleeding fists and drive your seriousness into him physically, but he caught your wrists before they could connect with his armor.

For the first time since before the trial your mind was clear and you knew that Robin was only telling the truth. In a millisecond your body went weak and fell against the archer’s larger one, completely exhausted now. Without another word he wrapped you in a tight hug and let you cry your fill. “It’s alright Master,” he had muttered, “it’s alright,” For as much as Robin was a jackass sometimes, he truly cared about you. When you pulled away, wiping your puffy eyes, you were still just as horrified.

“How do I choose?” You whispered, once again looking to the servants around you for an answer.

Nezha was first to answer. Curt and sharp, her approach was entirely expected, “There is no choice for us. We need to keep you safe first and foremost because without you, we will disappear; this singularity will complete whatever dastardly plan it has for the world. That being said, we cannot decide for you what your actions will be. If your heart is set on revealing yourself as a magus and risking your life for the sake of two servants who can be resummoned, we cannot change your mind,” The outlook was bleak but honest, they couldn’t stop you if, in the moment you were about to see Diarmuid’s body drop, you acted out of desperation. 

“I can’t make the choice,” you repeated the sentiment again. “You all know as well as I do that whatever the mist around Salem is, it makes sure that if any of you die here that death is permanent. We can resummon you, but we can’t retrieve any of the memories you’ve stored in Chaldeas. If I don’t save them and we manage to get out of here, they won’t remember any of their time at Chaldea,” you gulped at the finality of it, “Diarmuid won’t remember me,”

Mash cringed, having been as stoic as possible up until then to make sure she didn’t add on to your anxiety. It was common knowledge that you and Diarmuid were deeply involved with each other, sharing not just a strong romantic connection but a kinship that ran deeper than love. Mata Hari too was a beloved servant of Chaldea, but the loss of her memories would be a tragedy only overshadowed by the death of your life partner. It seemed that this truly was the impossible choice. If nobody else relied on your life you would gladly go to the gallows for Diarmuid’s sake, though he would be just as terrified as you were for him in this moment, maybe even more. That wasn’t the way things were though, the entire world relied on you making sure this singularity didn’t complete whatever it’s nefarious purpose was. Your heart was torn in two.

“Perhaps you don’t have to choose,” 

When you looked up, you saw Sanson had spoken. Guilt began to pool in your stomach about the harsh words you had thrown at him earlier, but he seemed mostly unaffected. “What do you mean?” You asked, approaching as you wiped your blotchy cheeks with the heels of your palms. 

“Diarmuid and Mata Hari could choose their fate themselves,” your eyes widened at Sanson’s cool tone. “If we set out now we could make it to the jail in time to bargain with Hopkins for a little bit of time with them. They can choose what outcome to aim for, which is especially fair because their lives are the ones potentially being sacrificed. If they agree that you should risk your life, Master, then we can formulate a plan and let them prepare. If not… well, we will know they are at peace with their ends,” It went unsaid when he looked at you in that moment that it would also be a time for last words, either yours or theirs.

You sat, then, against a large oak that was shading you all, resting your head between your legs. The world was lurching around you, shaking your insides and sending your mind into messy disarray. It took a moment to realize the world wasn’t shaking, but your body was, wracked with adrenaline and anxiety. This truly was the best course of action, wasn’t it? What other choice did you have. Giving in to it all, you nodded weakly. “Alright, that’s what we’ll do,”

It took about an hour for the group of you to walk all the way to the jail from your position in the forest, even though everyone was walking at a brisk clip. Matthew Hopkins was just making his way out of the building as you arrived. The old man’s face made you feel physically sick. He was the reason you had to make this terrible choice at all. Never before in all your years on earth had you wanted to kill a fellow human being more. Thought’s filled your head with endless possibilities, all stemming from you launching yourself at Hopkins and attempting to kill him, but in the end you kept them all to yourself. There was no reason to risk anything more than you already had. Instead, you smiled politely as you approached.

“Good evening performers,” the man said, the space between his eyebrows pinched into a tight furrow, “what brings you here,”

“We’re hoping to say goodbye to those you have sentenced to death tonight,” Robin replied. You were grateful that he had responded purposefully before you had the chance, because you knew that you wouldn’t have been able to speak so eloquently and neutrally. “If that’s alright with you, of course,”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can allow that,”

Your heart sank as Matthew Hopkins shook his head, face stern. “Why is that?” It was Sanson’s turn to ask. You had to admit that he was a much better negotiator than any of the others there with you. There was a strange kinship between him and Hopkins you had noticed, perhaps their ties to perceived witch hunts and executions made them more similar than either would care to admit.

Hopkins remained cold and distant as he answered. “Those two have been found guilty of being succubi. Not even guards are being allowed down to the cells, lest they be bewitched by their deadly charms. If we were to let you down there, there’s no telling what they could convince you to do, especially because they have clearly bewitched you before. I am firm in my knowledge that keeping them isolated is the only way I can guarantee they will not escape.” Before you could hold it back, a sob ripped its way out of your lungs, catching him off guard. Quirking up a silver eyebrow, he regarded you with disdain. “What is your quarrel, woman?”

Without thinking, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. “Please,” your words quivered in the air, “the man you’ve sentenced to death is my husband. I need to see him one last time,”

“You wear no ring,” Damn, Hopkins was perceptive! It was a very good thing that you kept your bluff so close to the truth. Slowly, you took a deep breath and pulled a chain out from under your shirt that had been around your neck for exactly 2 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days. At the end, a simple golden wedding band gleamed brightly in the sun, which seemed to be drifting downwards towards the horizon much too quickly for your liking.

The judge and your servant’s were all suitably shocked at the revelation. Though everyone knew of you and Diarmuid, it was a secret that things had gone so far. You were not truly married by modern law, that was something that would have to wait until humanity was finally safe and you were free of the Mage’s Associations peering eyes, but you had performed a small handfasting ceremony by candlelight the night he asked you to be his wife. The ring was his, a carryover from his short lived marriage to Grainne, and far too large to fit on your finger so you wore it on your neck instead, letting it rest close to your heart. In a moment, the suspicion in Hopkins’ eyes turned to pity.

“Poor child,” he muttered, “bewitched into marriage with a succubus. You truly have seen suffering. I suppose it would cause no harm for you to say goodbye to your husband if the church has recognised your union. Be quick, though, they still need to be prepared and we must leave for the gallows soon.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding as he unlocked the large wooden doors and let you make your way down to the dank prison cells where Mata Hari and Diarmuid waited.

“We’ll go talk to Mata Hari,” Robin whispered, leaning close to make sure Hopkins couldn’t hear from his place at the top of the stairs where he awaited your return, “you talk to Diarmuid alone,” Though the archer was never one for sentimentality there was sadness in his eyes as you parted at the bottom of the stairs, as if he had seen close companions sent to death in his time too. There was no time to linger on those thoughts, though, as you raced down to the last cell in the row where Diarmuid awaited you.

He was sat in the corner of the small stone room, arms wrapped around his legs and eyes gazing at the floor absently. At some point he had been changed out of the clothes he was brought to court in, now donning the rough sackcloth outfits made for prisoners. You imagined Mata Hari was wearing something similar and wondered how many other men had died wearing the same outfit before quickly banishing the thought, it wouldn’t do you any good now. “Diarmuid,” his name passed through your lips easily, catching his attention. When he saw you waiting outside his cell he stood up quickly, rushing to the iron bars that seperated you.

“Master, my love,” His tone was reverent and soft as he reached out to you, taking your hand in his, “what are you doing here?” He hushed suddenly, his voice darkening, “you shouldn’t be here. I don’t want you to see what’s about to happen,” Instead of turning away as you were very sure he wanted you to, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, using your other hand to stroke his cheek gently. It tortured you to be separated from him, kept away by thick iron bars that he didn’t dare bend to get to you despite his ability to, lest he break your cover. “If I hadn’t insisted you come with us none of this would be happening right now,” Looking closer, you noticed that some dried blood marred Diarmuid’s forehead, having dripped down from a nasty gash at his hairline. “What happened to you?” 

“Ah that,” He chuckled a bit, leaning into the softness of your touch, “one of the men who brought me here was the husband of a woman who propositioned me. He was absolutely sure that I had laid with his wife. It doesn’t hurt much anymore, just stings a little, no need to worry,” Though you knew he was a servant who wouldn’t be bothered by a little roughing up at the hands of a human, it still tore at your heartstrings to know he hadn’t been treated well. 

The orange glow of the setting sun was making its way into the cell by way of a small, crescent shaped window at the very top of the backmost wall. It illuminated Diarmuid’s sharp features, especially his golden eyes, as it travelled in. There would have been something romantic about the sight if you didn’t know exactly what would come once the sun finally set. “I need you to make a choice Diarmuid,” you muttered, hand still pressed firmly to his cheek, “and for once in your life I need you to be entirely selfish,”

He blinked, confused, “what do you mean? Master, what are you talking about?”

His confusion hurt your heart, but you took a deep breath, reminding yourself that there was no other choice than to push forward and let him choose his fate. “The others are speaking to Mata Hari right now. We’ve decided that you two should be the ones who decide what we do tonight. Either you can… you know…” your throat went dry as a desert. It was too real to say it out loud, but even without saying the words Diarmuid caught your meaning so you continued, “or I can use a command spell to release some of your powers and allow you to escape the gallows right before you drop,”

“Damning yourself in the process,” Diarmuid’s response was sharp, and he pulled his cheek away from your hand roughly. “Master, that would be suicide. I can’t let you throw your life away because of a mistake I made. I _chose_ to go down to the docks with Mata Hari knowing that it was possible for women to be affected by my curse! Me, not you! This is my cross to bear, I cannot believe that you’d ever think that I’d let you trade your life for mine. My answer is no, I will not allow you to throw away the rest of your life for me,”

“Then you know exactly why I want to,” You whispered, withdrawing your hand and stepping back to give Diarmuid some space. “How do you expect me to watch you die out there tonight if I have the choice to save you. Wouldn’t you do the same for me?” It was all a tangled knot in your heart, so confusing. Thankfully Diarmuid’s rage was very short lived and he soon returned to his place against the bars. “You know that if you die here tonight, even if I manage to resummon you, you won’t remember me,” Tears were dripping down your chin now, big fat tears that had threatened to fall all day, “I’ll never be with _you_ again, whoever comes out of the summoning circle will just be some man who shares your face,” 

Diarmuid’s face went dark for a moment as he thought of you in the same position he was, broken down and beaten in a dirty cell, waiting for death, and knew exactly what you felt, but still stood firm in his choice. “I am aware, but this is a choice I must make, for your sake and the sake of humanity,” In that moment, you hated humanity, hated the greater good, despised the duty that tore you away from the person who held your heart. “I hope you know that no matter what, I will always love you. It doesn’t matter if I lose my memories of our time together once or a thousand times, from the moment I first saw you I knew I would love you more than I had ever loved anything in my lifetime,”

Laughing through your tears, you asked, “even Fionn?”

He laughed back softly, “yes, even Fionn. Plus, you’ll have my ring,” he pointed at the ring hanging off the chain on your neck, now lying above your shirt and reflecting the evening sunlight off it’s polished surface. “Simply show that to me when you meet me again and I will be overjoyed. You can return to things as if nothing ever happened,”

You scoffed, “you know that’s not true,” but Diarmuid only shrugged in response, beckoning you closer to him. Pressing your face up against the bars, you let yourself cry as Diarmuid ran his fingers through your hair one last time, smiling sadly. There was so much love in his touch, a thousand words that would go unsaid.

“I wish I could kiss you,” his words were filled with endless yearning. At that moment you knew this was just as torturous for him as it was for you, maybe even moreso. He would be the one hanging, not you. You hummed a yes and pressed back into his touch, searching your mind for anything you needed to tell him before your time ran out. One thing came up over and over, no matter how much you repressed it. 

“Do you regret meeting me?”

It was Diarmuid’s turn to scoff, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

You were ashamed that you even felt the need to ask, but the guilt was so deeply entrenched inside you that you knew you’d never recover if you didn’t. “All I’ve done from the moment we met is set you up to suffer in this moment. Everything we’ve ever done has led up to this, me stupidly saying I needed you to come with me to Salem and damning you to death. If I hadn’t summoned you, hadn’t loved you, hadn’t admitted my feelings, none of this would’ve happened, you’d be happy-”

He cut you off, pressing his pointer finger to your lips in an attempt to hush your frenzied crying. “Look at me Master, my dearest heart, I could never regret you. After hundreds of years of misfortune, you are the first and only thing that has brought me true joy. I would rather die tonight, having loved you so deeply and truly that it gave me more happiness than my entire lifetime provided, than live for a thousand years without ever knowing the sweetness of your kiss, or the soft lilt of your voice,” 

His voice was soft as he moved both of his hands to cup your cheeks, pressing his forehead against yours as best as he could through the thick iron. Tears wouldn’t stop running down your cheeks but you made no attempt to break the contact and wipe them away. Instead you allowed them to fall freely, focusing entirely on the feeling of Diarmuid’s hands. They were so familiar. Those rough and calloused hands had caressed you so many times and yet you were realizing that you had taken every single one for granted, always assuming there would be another time, another touch, another stolen kiss. This, you suddenly thought, was truly the end. 

“If I had never known you, I wouldn’t know that life was worth living and people worth loving,” he whispered now, his words meant for you and only you, “Almost every woman I met before you was selfish and greedy, using me to fulfill their white knight fantasies, but you treated me like more than that, like a real person. When you spoke to me that first night about your love for the stars and your wish for the grail I knew you were the missing piece I had lacked all my life and searched for endlessly. In the end, you found me exactly when I was supposed to be found, right when I needed you most,”

You choked out another sob, “I needed you too,” 

“Please don’t cry my love,” his fingers moved to wipe your tears, “there’s no need to cry for me. I have died much worse deaths than this, and for people who did not care for me. I am so grateful that you gave me the chance to know happiness, to know love. If you had never summoned me I never would have completed myself. I’m sure that when you see me next, even if I can’t remember you, you will do the exact same. Or, if the pain is too much to bear, you can instead choose to live with my memories until you grow old, because you _will_ grow old, Master. You will save humanity, move on, fall in love again, have children, anything your heart desires will come to you, I know it.” 

“But I wanted to do all those things with you,” Desperation was starting to charge your thoughts as the light filtering through the window got closer and closer to the ground. “I thought we’d have a lifetime together. Diar, we were supposed to get married again, see the world, make a family. Why do you have to leave me now? Why can’t all that be true?”

He sighed, and for the first time in your years together you saw Diarmuid cry. It was only a few tears, nothing compared to your waterworks, but even before you rayshifted to the Temple of Time he hadn’t cried, instead just holding you and wishing you good luck. It was clear that this was taking a toll on him, but it all needed to be said before time ran out. “I don’t regret a single moment I shared with you Master. If this is the end of our time together, it doesn’t matter. I’ve lived a full life in the time I’ve known you.”

Suddenly, you heard a noise from behind you. Turning, you saw Robin waiting a few cells away. “Master,” he called softly, “it’s time,” You knew it wasn’t Robin’s choice to cut your time with Diarmuid short, but you still hated him for trying to pull you away.

“I can’t leave you,” you cried, gripping the rough fabric of Diarmuid’s shirt and pulling him as close to you as the cell allowed.

Diarmuid smiled softly, still crying gently but letting no trace of those tears reach his voice. He was still so strong, strong for your benefit more than his own. “You never will,” he said, looking into your eyes with a soft fervor and intensity, “no matter what happens to me I will always be in your heart, forever, so please keep safe my Master. I will be watching over you, always,” Neither of you had to say you loved the other to know it, it went unsaid with the thousands of other things there wasn’t time for.

It was then that you had to remove yourself from the servant and walk away. Before you could, Diarmuid lifted your hand into his one last time and kissed it gently as he had the night before. It was clear now that it was your kiss goodbye, one he would never be able to give you on the lips. That was almost enough to make you break every promise you had ever made to Mash, Roman, or DaVinci, to blow it all and save Diarmuid at the cost of humanity, but you didn’t. Diarmuid knew you wouldn’t. One of the things that made you work so well was that you were almost as selfless as he was. 

As you made your way to the stairs, unable to look back for fear that you wouldn’t be able to leave, you heard his voice. “Robin, take care of her, don’t let this be for nothing,”

Robin nodded curtly. There were few servants that the archer actually got along with and Diarmuid had been one. “Anything for you buddy,” Robin called back, taking you by the arm to help you up the slippery stairs, “Circe will talk to you in a second, but after that… well…” Even Robin, usually full of quips, couldn’t find the right thing to say. “Goodbye, Diarmuid,”

With that, the two of you ascended the stone stairway, finally reaching the surface again. The look that the servants gave you made it clear that Mata Hari had made the same choice as Diarmuid, she too would sacrifice herself and her memories for you. It was only a short time before Circe joined you and you began to short trek to the gallows. In the fading light of day, the great wooden monument to death seemed all the more imposing. All that was left was to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am very sorry for subjecting you all to almost 5000 words of angst! I have been listening to/reading a lot of angsty stuff lately and I couldn’t not write this story after I thought of it. I promise tomorrow’s story is almost pure fluff because even I need it after writing this.  
> Secondly, today’s song is If I Never Knew You, a song used in the 10th anniversary edition of Disney’s Pocahontas after being cut from the theatrical release. This song is very close to my heart, it being the first song I ever really learned how to sing as a young child, so it really was only a matter of time before I wrote a fic based on it. I hope you know that I am in tears right now after just finishing the chapter and looking it over for error, so sorry! I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments, even if it’s just ranting about this chapter being depressing lol. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it despite the sad tone and will join me tomorrow for a lighter story <3


	10. The Top Of The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week after the destruction of Goetia, when the celebrations have finally calmed down and you’ve had time to mourn, you invite Diarmuid up to the roof to enjoy the view. Little do you know, to Diarmuid there is no view more gorgeous than you. 
> 
> Spoilers for F/GO’s first arc

Exactly one week after you saved humanity, the sky outside of Chaldea was the most gorgeous blue you had ever seen. After so many months of constant storms and darkness, even a glimpse of the cloudless horizon out your window was enough to get you excited. You noticed very few things brought you joy in the past few days despite your victory. Every corner of Chaldea was tainted with loss. Despite that, you tried your best to keep up a brave face for the staff and everyone around; it wouldn’t be polite for you to mope as ask for more after escaping the Temple of Time with your life. 

That morning you ate breakfast out in the hallway, using the window ledge as a bench where you set your apple and mug of coffee and sat, gazing up towards the heavens. It was one of the first times you decided not to wear your uniform, instead opting for a well loved pair of jeans and a chunky-knit white sweater. Buried deep within your mind was a precious memory, a promise you intended to keep despite your sadness. Even if the doctor was gone now, scattered through space and time, it didn’t mean you shouldn’t keep living your life. He wouldn’t have wanted you to stop living for his sake. 

The two of you had stumbled into each other in the middle of the night, both wrapped in thick blankets and staring into the darkness with tired, bleary eyes. In that quiet darkness you had sat on a ledge very similar to the one you ate breakfast on and talked till dawn about life and love. You never understood how Roman, a doctor who had travelled the world, still seemed so fascinated with love. Now, you supposed, it was a bit too late to talk to him about it. 

In that private moment you truly got to know Roman for who he was deep down. You remembered the soft look on his face as he described his hidden longing to become closer to DaVinci. He had looked at you, eyes full of a strange sense of knowing, and asked if you loved anyone. Maybe it was your exhaustion or something beyond your comprehension pulling you to speak, but you had told the doctor about your hidden longing for Diarmuid that night. For hours you extolled the virtues of the good knight and Roman had simply listened, smiling softly in your directions. 

Looking back, that was the moment you started to trust the good doctor more. As the clock struck 6 am on that night that seemed to stretch endlessly Roman had looked out at the storm outside and asked you a question.  _ If I ask you to promise me something, will you actually do it?  _ He had asked, becoming more serious than usual. You had nodded, interest piqued, and instead of asking for something outlandish, he started to laugh gently.  _ There’s a hatch leading up to the roof from one of the storage closets in the west wing. Once you save humanity and this storm lets up I want you to take Diarmuid up there and enjoy the view. _

Well, you’d saved humanity and lost Roman in the process, now being left with just one thing to do in honor of his memory. The hard part was working up the courage to ask Diarmuid to join you. It wasn’t that you thought he would say no, you knew him well enough to know he’d do almost anything if you asked him nicely, but you didn’t want him to accept the invitation out of obligation. It meant nothing if Diarmuid only pledged loyalty to you because you had summoned him, you wanted him to trust you, respect you, and if you deserved it… just maybe he could love you one day. So, you watched a single cloud float it’s way across the sky, planning for every possible scenario as the minutes ticked away. 

When your coffee was all but drained and the apple was down to its core, you stood and stretched, yawning. Your plan was complete. It was decided that you’d go to the cafeteria and see if Diarmuid was even there; if he was, you’d try your best to ask him, if he wasn’t you’d call it a day. It was only a short walk, so you started your journey at a brisk pace with as much confidence as you could muster. Unfortunately, the moment you stepped into the bustling cafeteria all of that confidence disappeared. 

The room was absolutely packed to the gills, with a long line of servants and staff alike waiting to get their meal shoved tightly against the wall. That sight alone was almost enough to get you to chicken out but you took a deep breath and steeled yourself instead of running, this was your best chance. It didn’t take long for you to locate your desired lancing, especially because his table-mates were some of the loudest in the room. You could hear Fionn’s grating voice from across the cafeteria. It’s loud and boisterous grit seemed to magnify and bounce off the metallic walls and screech it’s way directly into your ears. Diarmuid’s voice, however, was absent.

“The wine was flowing and the women were throwing themselves at me!” Fionn boasted, waving his hands. You spotted the Diarmuid next to him, silently eating a bowl of plain porridge and furrowing his brows.  _ This won’t be so hard, _ you thought as you approached,  _ he looks just about as unamused as I do _ . “Of course, I couldn’t resist their allure. It was only right for me to choose one to bed!” The rest of the men at the table (Fergus, Hektor, and Jason, for the record) laughed loudly at the story, only noticing you when you were less than a foot away.

When they did see you, all of them paused and waited for you to explain your presence, seeing as it was extremely rare for you to show your face during the breakfast rush. Diarmuid, though, looked up at you and started to beam. It was as if someone had lifted a physical weight off his back the second his eyes met yours; his body seemed to straighten immediately and his brilliant, toothy smile started to show. “Sorry to interrupt,” You said shyly, “but do you think I could borrow you for the morning, Diarmuid?”

The moment you said his name he shot out of his chair. “It would be my honor, Master!” He said, a little too excitedly you noted, before picking up his tray and quickly taking his tray to the trash can. You waited for him to return before accompanying him to the door. It made you blush to hear the wolf whistles and words of encouragement coming from behind you as you left, what had Diarmuid said about you to make them react like that? Once you got out the door, the knight became much calmer than he had been before. “I’m sorry that I took you away from your friends and your breakfast,” 

Diarmuid stopped you quickly. “Please don’t apologize. Though Fionn is my king, sometimes he makes absolutely abhorrent company. Besides, I much prefer sharing time with you than any ruffian who happens upon my breakfast table,” He shot you one of his token smiles again, the ones that make your heart skip a beat, before getting back to business. “So Master, what’s the special occasion?” 

“Well I was hoping we could go look out at the scenery on the roof,” you said. In an attempt to avoid looking into his sinfully attractive eyes (I mean seriously, who let him have such nice eyes?), you started picking at your nails and looking down at the floor. “The weather has been really nice today and I’ve missed going outside, so I thought it would be nice to spend some time with you,” You decided, in that moment, that it was probably best to leave your promise to Roman out of it, it wasn’t a jump to assume Diarmuid would take it entirely the wrong way.

The second you mentioned that there truly wasn’t any special occasion and the invite was entirely casual Diarmuid’s eyes filled with a strange emotion. If you had to guess, it was probably close to appreciation. There were few people he got along with well, with Fionn being one of them, so the thought of being invited to hang out without any obligations to fulfill was probably very exciting for him. “I would be more than happy to accompany you outside,” he said, reaching down and taking your hand in his.

You froze, heart thumping loudly in your ears. What in the world was that for? It was a welcome action, but entirely surprising. Why would Diarmuid, of all the servants in Chaldea, actively show affection to you? It was all you wanted and yet it seemed utterly impossible when it came to fruition. All of this processed in less than a second in your brain, so you fixed your expression of shock before Diarmuid could see it, replacing it with a slight smile and squeezing his hand softly. “Let’s get going then!”

“Could we actually stop by my room for a moment,” Diarmuid asked. You quirked your head, looking at him once again. Explaining, he continued, “I figured even though the cold doesn’t bother me than I should change into something a bit more comfortable if we’re going to be outside for a while,” You hadn’t even thought of that, honestly. It made you a bit ashamed to think that you would’ve taken him outside in his sleeveless combat armor, so you quickly nodded and started the journey to the barracks. 

The trip wasn’t a long one, and Diarmuid changed with inhuman speed when you did arrive, but nothing prepared you for seeing him when he exited his room. He was dressed in deep brown corduroy slacks and a beige cashmere sweater with a white button up underneath. Never before that moment had you seen him dressed for combat. When he appeared before you, looking almost like a normal man, it only made you fall for the good knight more than before. There he was, suddenly even more attractive than he had ever been to you before, and you were supposed to say something? What could you even do to express how you felt?

“You look really nice,” was all you could muster.

Diarmuid looked appreciative, assessing the clothes for himself and coming out pleased. “Thank you, Master. Your outfit is quite nice as well, it suits you much better than your usual uniform,” As if noticing how badly you could take his words just a moment too late his eyes widened in shock and he began to flounder for a way to fix it. “Not that you ever look bad! It’s always quite the opposite, in fact. I always enjoy how you look in your uniform, not that I spend a lot of time looking, I promise!” Finally, he sighed and conceded, “I apologize, that was not very honorable of me,”

You laughed it off, smiling softly. “I understood what you meant, don’t worry Diarmuid,” From there you began the short journey to the storage closet and soon were emerging out of the emergency hatch into the chilly arctic air.

To say that the view was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen was a vast understatement. On all sides were massive mountains of white towering high, covered in thick layers of snow with low valleys nestled among them, giving way for massive banks of thick ice. In the far distance, right above the horizon where the mountains were lowest, you could see glaciers with their deep and endless fissures moving ever closer to the sea. Even Diarmuid, a man who had seen incredible places in his time as a hero and knew of even more wondrous sights through the knowledge gained in the Throne of Heroes, was amazed by the sight. Slowly, the two of you walked to a rooftop generator and sat with your backs against it, enjoying the scenery.

“You can see everything from up here,” you said, your hushed tone filled with awe as you gestured your hand across the horizon, “it’s amazing to know that something this gorgeous was hiding from all of us behind the storm for so long,” Diarmuid seemed to shuffle closer to you, letting his side press against yours as he nodded and squinted at the horizon. If you had to guess it looked like he was attempting to see it all exactly as you were, or maybe he was just trying to seem like there was an excuse for him moving closer to you. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite this beautiful,”

Under his breath, Diarmuid muttered something indistinguishable before gazing softly at your face. “This truly is a sight rivaled by very little in the entire world,” he paused hesitantly before continuing in a quieter tone, “I’m very glad you invited me up here today. Otherwise I never would have been able to enjoy this view.” It was strange, though he was mentioning the scenery his eyes never left yours. Turning away and blushing furiously, you cleared your throat.

“Anyways, I’m happy you came with me,” Your voice was almost a whisper now, “there’s nobody else I’d rather share this sight with,” Diarmuid seemed shocked for a moment by your words, which worried you deeply, but quickly returned to a happy, neutral expression.

Changing the subject, the lancer finally turned away from you and looked out across the horizon again, smiling. “I’ve seen these mountains from the windows for the past week, and yet they seem completely different. Not only that, but everything is so pretty and peaceful now that the storm is gone. Even those glaciers in the distance seem tiny from up here, when really they’re just as tall as the mountains,” You could feel Diarmuid’s voice rumbling in his chest, lulling you into a daze as time started to pass. Sitting there next to him was so wonderful that you didn’t even feel the cold wind as it blew past, nothing else mattered except for the time you were sharing with your favorite servant.

“It’s very peaceful down there,” you pointed to the untouched, snowy field that rested at the base of the mountain that housed Chaldea. Over a year before, you had walked across that field and taken the elevator up to a job interview you didn’t feel at all qualified for. Since then, not a single living thing had walked across the field or entered Chaldea. It was an odd thing to think about and wrap your head around.

“I agree,” Diarmuid nodded, “thank you for all of this. I hope that this isn’t the only time you invite me to spend time with you. I quite enjoy getting to know you better, Master,” From there, the conversation flowed easily. For hours you sat together, slowly gravitating closer and closer to each other until suddenly you found that you had been resting your head against his shoulder, and he had tilted his head so it in turn rested upon yours. It was domestic to be close to Diarmuid in a way you hadn’t expected but were pleasantly surprised by. Though your heart pounded as if it would jump from your chest, you made no attempt to move away. 

For so many years you had been so afraid, not just of death but of life. It had been so hard to take risks, even small ones, when you knew that one mistake could send the human race into extinction. Now, though, Goetia was dead and the world was no longer resting as firmly on your shoulders; it was ok for you to let yourself feel and experience again. With Diarmuid sat at your side it felt like you were a person, not just a Master used as earth’s salvation. From your place on top of Chaldea, it was as though you and Diarmuid were seated at the top of the world, high above the troubles that burdened you usually. As if a spell had suddenly broken, your fear of risk that had hardened your heart melted away.

Before too long the conversation between you two began to slow, leaving long periods of silence between the sound of voices. You knew that before the both of you returned to the real world you needed to say something, but what? Emotions began to overload your mind, both good and bad, as you struggled to put so much yearning into a neat package. Silent tears began to roll down your cheeks, though they were mostly from joy. Diarmuid noticed them, though, and suddenly tried to tend to whatever was ailing you. 

“Are you alright?” He asked tenderly, procuring a well worn handkerchief from his pocket and tenderly wiping at your tears. His touch was soft, taking care of you as if you were something precious and breakable. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Instead of answering his questions, you smiled through the happy tears. “It’s just so nice… I love sitting here with you,” before Diarmuid could talk, you continued, “for so long I’ve been afraid but now that I’m here with you I feel like me again. You’re so special Diar, I care about you more than you know,” You couldn’t bear to look at his face when you were done confessing. Though you knew whatever happened Diarmuid would remain loyal, it still hurt your heart that he might not feel the same way about you.

After giving you a moment to collect yourself, Diarmuid tilted up your chin gently with his hand and looked into your eyes. Though you had initially braced for bad news, his joyous expression expelled any doubts you had. He loved you. You could see it in his eyes and his smile, feel it in his touch. Diarmuid loved you and had for a long time. As if he knew that words wouldn’t be enough, he leaned in and kissed you.

You had always imagined your first kiss would be sloppy, shared in a moment of feverish passion between you and someone just as inexperienced, but this was anything but. Diarmuid was exceptionally skilled at the art of wooing women, something you were eternally grateful for; you doubted your nonexistent skills would do your feelings any justice. As your lips locked together you let yourself press into Diarmuid’s warm body, enjoying the softness of his sweater against your hands, red and swollen from the biting cold that hadn’t affected you till that point. Kissing him was as easy as breathing. It felt more right than anything you had ever done. 

When you finally broke away for air, though you knew Diarmuid didn’t need any, you were hit with a wave of shivers. “Damn it’s cold,” you whispered to nobody in particular and Diarmuid laughed, taking your hands into his larger, warmer ones and soothing your chill temporarily. 

“I didn’t expect that to be your first reaction after kissing me,” he chuckled, drawing you up into his arms again and surrounding you with his massive form, “though after all this time I was starting to doubt that it would ever happen.” It was your turn to laugh then. All of your fears seemed so small and irrational now, discarded to the back of your mind. How could Diarmuid have ever rejected you? This Diarmuid, so caring and careful, had always been waiting for you to be ready for him, patient and kind, since the moment you met. “Alright Master, we should get inside before you get frostbite. We can always come back out later once you’re warmed up,” 

As you descended the ladder back into the small storage closet below, closing the emergency hatch and enjoying Chaldea’s heating system once again, you were reminded of a question you had meant to ask. “Hey Diar, can I ask you something?” He hummed an affirmative, searching a nearby shelf for a blanket or some hand warmers. “What did you mumble about earlier, right when we got out onto the roof?” 

“Oh, that?” Diarmuid turned to you, walking to your side and wrapping you in a tight embrace, “You said that you’d never seen anything as beautiful as the view up there. I simply responded that you were far more beautiful than anything else on this earth,” You gasped lightly, swept off your feet by his suave nature.

“This isn’t fair, you’re way too good at this romance thing,” your voice came out in soft pants between giggles as Diarmuid then literally swept you off your feet. It felt so right, resting yourself against his chest and simply letting him take the lead. For once you felt entirely safe and relaxed, not worried about potential disasters occuring after you left power in someone else’s hands. To be honest, you needed this. 

“Ah, my darling Master, it only gets worse from here,” Diarmuid said, feigning concern as he carried you out into the hallways, “soon you will find that I am a fool when I love, showering my beloved in gifts and praises. You shall never escape my affections for the rest of your days. Now where to, Master? What shall we conquer together? The library? The games room?”

While you instructed Diarmuid to walk in the direction of the games room and gave in to his ministrations, you internally gave thanks to Roman for pushing you towards this future. Even though he knew he’d be gone, he used his clairvoyance to help you obtain happiness one last time. Smiling and snuggling closer to your lancer, you hoped that somewhere out there Roman was looking down on you. Deep down, you knew he was. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I’m sorry that this chapter is a little rambly and generally not great, about 1000 words in I had a very negative interaction with someone in my family and it’s really affected me and messed with my mood, therefor negatively effecting my writing. Because of this, tomorrow’s chapter is going to be super silly because thats what I need right now haha. Today’s song was Top Of The World from the staged version of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. It’s a really gorgeous musical and I wish I could write prompts based on literally every single song, because every one is really wonderful and tells a great story. I love to see comments and questions, so don’t be afraid to leave one! Sorry again about this oneshot, and thank you so much for sticking with me! <3


	11. It’s Show Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a magical girl is difficult enough when you aren’t trying to protect your crush from the evil corporation that gave you your powers, not to mention the test you have tomorrow and the fact that your mentor isn’t helping at all! Whoever said being a teenager was easy didn’t understand your life.

In the soft light of the rising sun you compared two hair ribbons, frowning. One was a bold red, complementing the black skirt you’d chosen to wear. The other, though, was a deep green, Diarmuid’s favorite color. You still had plenty of time left before school, but if you didn’t decide on your accessory soon you’d be off schedule. Taking a deep breath, you decided on green; it would be nice to get a complement. Maybe, if you had the confidence, you could even ask him out.

As soon as the thought entered your head you physically shook it away, tying up your hair and running down the stairs to the kitchen. It would do you no good to fantasize about a date with Diarmuid O’Dyna. He was by far the most attractive guy in school even if he wasn’t the most popular, why would he date someone like you? Even though you hid spectacular powers beneath your shy facade, it wasn’t as if Diarmuid could ever actually know who you were. Not even your parents knew, so how could he? Grabbing an orange you noticed that both your parents were already off to work, perfect.

You pulled out your communicator then, sure that you had the secrecy you needed. “Hey Roman,” you said cheerily into the little microphone inside the trinket, “anything new I need to check out today!” As your less put-together mentor groaned sleepily on the other side of the connection, you peeled the orange and started popping segments into your mouth. It was obvious that you’d woken him up but you didn’t have it in you to feel bad. “Oh, and how’s Mash doing?”

The little familiar was the one who actually answered, “I’m doing very well, Senpai! I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that I’m rested and ready for our next battle!” You missed the little pixie a lot when she was back at the lab, but you also knew having her around during the day could cause problems. Mash wasn’t known for being especially secretive, often speaking her mind without realizing all the people around you could also hear her. After one too many mishaps at school she started to stay with Roman and DaVinci during the day.

Speaking of DaVinci, she took over for Roman, who you could hear groggily wandering around in the background of the call. “We don’t have anything for you right now, enjoy your day at school, Magus of Red!” With that you finished your orange, grabbed your backpack, and started your walk to school. At this rate, you’d get there with plenty of time to spare. It was so strange to think that just a few weeks earlier you had been a completely normal girl.

That was, until that day at the park. One moment you were taking a shortcut to get to school, the next two people were dragging you towards a van and the sun was setting in the distance. Even more shockingly, the people putting you into a literal white van weren’t the ones who had messed with your mind. In an instant you had been transformed from a normal human to a magus, supposedly by the secretive Mage’s Association. DaVinci had explained that in modern times, magic was slowly dying out and in a desperate attempt to repopulate the magus population, the Mage’s Association had sent out a blast of highly concentrated mana through the city in the hopes of awakening magic circuits that had been dead for generations. 

You understood the concept a little more now than you did then, but it was still confusing to think that your ancestors had been good enough mages that your magic circuits responded to the call. It also became clear to you after a few run-ins that you were far from the only magus who had been awakened by the blast, and the Mage’s Association wouldn’t stop terrorizing the city with their experiments until they either created more mages or collected all the ones they had created. Since that moment, you had begun to work for Roman and DaVinci, two scientists attempting to put a stop to the experimentation by the bigger organization, and would try to neutralize any threats that appeared before they could get innocent bystanders involved.

In your time as a 3rd rate magus you had found two other mages awakened by the blast. One was Artoria Pendragon, a young businesswoman who ran a local restaurant chain, and the other was Hakuno Kishinami, a classmate of yours. Both of them, when they realized what was happening, offered their help to assist you in fighting the Mage’s Association and provided more information to the lab about their experiences. 

It seemed that, after a bit of testing and research, each of you were particularly good at one segment of magecraft. Artoria was built for direct combat while Hakuno was good at healing magic. You, on the other hand, seemed to be best suited for defensive spells and strategy, so during patrols you often sat back and didn’t do much combat on your own when you didn’t have to. Another odd outcome of the research was that seemingly no men had been affected by the blast. It was a strange new existence, but you were starting to become more and more accustomed to your new powers and routine. 

When you finally arrived at school you quickly stopped by one of the vending machines out front to get a bottle of water to have with lunch. Maybe it was your nerves about class or that you had barely gotten any sleep the night before, but as you were digging change out of your pocket you dropped the coins that had already been gathered in your palm. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you knelt down to collect them only to find a larger hand had already gathered one up. “Thank you!” You said, looking up suddenly to find Diarmuid O’Dyna smiling down at you. Oh no…

Suddenly, your heart began to beat out of your chest. Why did it have to be him? “It’s no problem,” he said, placing the coins in your palm and stepping to the side, “You’re Hakuno’s friend right? The one who tutors her in math?” 

You nodded quickly, shaking from the adrenaline. You knew Hakuno had a few classes with Diarmuid but it was news to you that she was talking about you to him. Since when had that started? As you stood, silent and shaking, Diarmuid gave you a concerned look. “Are you alright? You look a little ill… Do you want me to take you to the nurse’s office? ” That snapped you out of your stupor quickly.

“I’m fine!” You said quickly, a little too quickly in fact, before putting on a calm facade, “I’m just really embarrassed about the coins, I’m not usually that clumsy,” Your excuse seemed to work, because Diarmuid’s worried expression melted away into his usual bright grin. Had he gotten more handsome since you first met him, or were you just not realizing how nice his hair looked? To your surprise, he continued to talk to you as he purchased his own drink from the vending machine. 

“Don’t worry, it happens to all of us. Anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the library with me tonight?” Diarmuid almost looked shy as he turned to you, expectant. Your heart skipped a beat. He was asking you out? Well, not really, but asking you to help tutor him. It was more than you ever could have asked for. As excitement built up in your chest, he continued, “Of course you don’t have to-“

“No!” You cut him off, “No, I want to go!” 

“Oh, good!” He shot you another dazzling smile, “Does 6 work?” 

As the first bell sounded, giving you a 5 minute warning to get to class, you nodded happily, “Yeah, 6 works. I have to get to class now… so… yeah, I’ll see you at 6!” You shot him a thumbs up, something you internally cringed at, before turning quickly and rushing towards the door. The last thing you wanted was to be late and risk a detention when something so exciting was happening in the evening.

“Hey, wait!” Diarmuid called, making you turn back, “I wanted to say I like the ribbon in your hair, it’s really cute,” He gestured towards his hair then before waving goodbye and rushing towards the gym. He called you cute… Diarmuid O’Dyna, the cutest boy in school, had asked you to go to the library with you and called you  _ cute.  _ Well, he called your ribbon cute, but that didn’t matter. As you rushed off to class you remembered to thank Hakuno for talking about you, without her none of this would have happened.

The hours passed slowly, even slower than usual, because waiting at the end of the metaphorical rainbow was coveted time with Diarmuid. Even lunch, the time of the day that usually passed the quickest, seemed to drag endlessly onwards. But, soon enough, the school day was over and you were rushing home. You intended to use the extra time after finishing your homework on practicing different spells and watching TV but instead you found yourself in front of your mirror once again as the minutes ticked away.

You found yourself wishing that the time was creeping past again because now it was going faster than ever. Glancing at the clock, you noted that it was getting close to 5:30 and you still hadn’t picked out an outfit. Damn, why was this so hard! You were stuck between a casual dress and a t-shirt with jeans, though either way you were keeping the hair ribbon from earlier. You didn’t want it to seem too much like a date so you were leaning towards the t-shirt but you didn’t want to see like you weren’t putting in any effort either, especially because Diarmuid always seemed so put together. When you finally decided on wearing the dress, you heard a familiar chirping alarm… shit.

Pulling the dress on and grabbing your communicator out of your backpack, you answered, “Hey guys, what’s up?”

“Bad news,” Roman answered quickly, “there’s been a demonic beast spotted somewhere in town, we need you there ASAP,” You groaned. Of course the one day that you actually have plans the Mage’s Association decides to release one of their freaky beasts. You didn’t complain, though. Saving lives was way more important than going on a not-date, even if that meant Diarmuid never spoke to you again. 

“Alright, where to?” Your tone was slightly casual despite the urgency of the situation as you grabbed your nearby go-bag, filled with everything you’d need for a fight. 

“Our sensors say the magical energy is coming from the local library,” You froze at Roman’s words. No, this couldn’t be happening. “Unfortunately, Artoria is out on a business trip and Hakuno had her communicator turned off, so you’d be on your own but-“ It was impossible to stop yourself from hanging up as you sprinted down the stairs and out onto the street without even changing into your mystic code. Not that it mattered anyway, you couldn’t focus on Roman while you were thinking about the fact that Diarmuid would be showing up right where the deadly creature of destruction was. Why did this stuff always seem to happen to you?

It was usually a 20 minute walk to the library on a good day, but you didn’t have that kind of time. you willed yourself to run fast and faster, driven by desperation and fear. Getting there before disaster struck wasn’t a choice, it was the only option. As confused people flew by in your peripheral vision you could only think  _ why, why, why? _ There was no space in your brain of anything else, not even preparation. It had been a while since you took on anything by yourself but that didn’t matter. you would fight and you would win for Diarmuid’s sake. 

You arrived at the library in a record 11 minutes and 35 seconds but that didn’t matter, all that mattered was that you saw Diarmuid waiting for you at the entrance, waving happily and completely clueless as to the danger he was in. “You need to leave!” You shouted at him as you ran closer, looking around to try to find the beast. You didn’t see it, though, which meant that it was still lying in wait in spirit form and it would shortly awaken after sensing your magic circuits. “Diarmuid, you need to get out of here,”

He quirked his head to the side, “what do you mean? Did you change your mind?” Before you could even find an excuse, you noticed him looking fearfully at something over your shoulder, absolutely horrified. Damn, you should have expected it would appear behind you. In less than a second you were being thrown across the pavement with a swipe of the beast’s claws. Even as you struggled to reach for your bag while sprawled out on the library’s lawn you weren’t thinking of yourself, though, you were thinking of your classmate who was surely being ripped to shreds behind you.

Finally, after a whole lot of digging, you found what you were looking for. Wrapping your hand around the engraved card, you shouted, “Red Mage, transform!” DaVinci had made each member of the team a Mystic Code (“ _ Not a costume!” She had chided you when you dared insult it, “without this thing in the field you’ll run out of mana in seconds. They might look silly, but you’ll appreciate the aesthetic later,” _ ) in their respective colors, you included. In a flash of light, you had equipped it and already just seconds later you felt it’s healing effects. DaVinci was right, you  _ did  _ need it even if it did look like a stupid costume. When you heard the demonic beast’s roar, you were reminded of your top priority but when you looked over towards it you were shocked. 

There, running towards you like his life depended on it, was Diarmuid holding two massive spears that most definitely hadn’t been there when you’d been attacked wearing a completely new outfit. Gone were his classy slacks and pullover, replaced with a strange green jumpsuit that looked just as silly as your mystic code. When you snapped out of your shock you also noticed that the demonic beast was frozen in place near the entrance, growling viciously as it attempted to break free from it’s invisible bindings.

“Are you ok?” Diarmuid asked as he slid to your side, dropping his spears and gathering you up into his arms as he settled at your side, “please tell me what I can do to help you,” You were still stunned enough that you couldn’t formulate a good answer, from the surprise of seeing him like this and the sudden closeness. 

“Just give me a second,” you panted and he obliged, stepping away and picking his weapons back up. Still confused, you asked, “how the hell did you do that?” As you waited for his response you picked yourself up and brushed yourself off, preparing for the fight to come. You could see the beast slowly beginning to gain control of itself again, getting ready to pounce. 

“Please don’t take this as me being disrespectful, but I think I can answer that once we kill this thing,” he responded. Well, he did have a point. You nodded sharply, and in a second you both were launching an all out assault on the terrible creature. You and Diarmuid had incredible synergy, and you found that as you fought he became less of an impossibly perfect idol and more of a person, just like you. In the end the fight wasn’t as difficult as you anticipated.

Only when the beast disappeared into shower of golden sparkles did you let yourself flop down on the grass, covering your face with your hands to protect your eyes against the glare of the setting sun. Even with the aid of magic, fighting was exhausting. Plus, at the most inopportune moment you had remembered you had a massive math test you forgot to study for the next day. Damning the universe, you rolled around, completely forgetting you had company until he cleared his throat.

When your eyes snapped open you saw Diarmuid standing over you, still dressed in his costume and smiling fondly. “I don’t want to interrupt you,” he chuckled as he sat down next to you, “but I think I owe you some answers,” You were glad he chose to entirely ignore the humiliating position you were in as you sat at his side. “As you’ve probably guessed, I was affected by the mana blast a few months ago too,”

Suddenly, everything made sense. “That explains a lot,” you laughed, looking pointedly at his clothes, “I knew nobody would ever wear something like that if they didn’t have to,”

He feigned offense. “I’ll have you know that I love this outfit! Plus, you’re one to talk. Red is quite a flashy color you know,” You found that even though he too was exhausted, Diarmuid was still giving you all of the attention and respect he could muster. That was just another good thing about him, you supposed; he wasn’t just attractive but also had the personality of a true gentleman. “Anyways, I only found Roman and DaVinci a few days ago. I’m guessing that they didn’t tell you about me,”

“Knowing DaVinci she expected Roman to tell me, and knowing Roman he completely forgot,” you deadpanned as Diarmuid laughed. For a brief moment, even with your mystic codes on sitting in the grass, you felt like a normal girl again. “Well, I guess our date is entirely ruined,” You realized you had called your meeting with Diarmuid a little too late, slapping your hand over your mouth as your eyes flew open wide. 

Thankfully, Diarmuid didn’t laugh. “I’m glad you realized it was a date. I’m sorry that I was too much of a coward to ask you outright, I just didn’t want you to say no,”

As you screamed on the inside, you smiled on the outside. It was incredibly nice to know that your feelings weren’t, in fact, one sided but you didn’t want to jinx anything, so you kept your mouth shut. There was one thing you had to ask as the two of you got up to make your way into the library, not bothering to change back into your normal clothes. “Why me?”

“What do you mean?” Diarmuid seemed genuinely confused as he took your hand in his and you walked to the library entrance together, “you’re the cutest girl I think I’ve ever met and you’re always so kind to everybody around you. Not to mention you’re so cool when you fight! I never would’ve guessed that you’re such a badass outside of school!” He looked at you with the same awe and wonder as a small child who just discovered transformers, making you blush slightly. 

As you spent the rest of the evening together, chatting and studying, you found yourself looking forward to the next time the Mage’s Association decided to attack. Becoming a magical girl had its drawbacks like losing study time, risking your life almost daily, and having completely unhelpful mentors, but in the end it led you to Diarmuid so maybe it was all worth it in the end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This one shot is a silly homage to my favorite early-2000’s anime, Tokyo Mew Mew. Looking back, it’s a pretty ridiculous magical girl show but it was the first anime I ever watched, so it holds a special place in my heart. The song I listened to on repeat while writing was the show’s opening, My Sweet Heart. On a more serious note, if I were to write a second part to any of the existing chapters would anybody be interested? If yes, what chapters would you like to see continued? Thank you all for your sweet comments and constant support, without all of you I wouldn’t be nearly as motivated as I am now. I’m so grateful for you guys giving me the push to continue doing what I love, it really makes a big difference for me confidence wise. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that you’ll continue to read my works!


	12. Sympathy, Tenderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you visit a moment from Diarmuid’s past in a nightmare you’re forced to confront a part of him that you didn’t know existed.

Your eyes snapped open as you felt something tear through your abdomen, settling there. Once the shock was gone and you managed to get your bearings you noticed how dark it was. All around you were unfamiliar buildings surrounded by patches of cold, wet earth. Standing just a few feet away was Artoria, looking mortified. Ah, so this was another dream of a servant’s past. That realization let you relax, your life wasn’t actually in any danger and you had no control over what was going on, and you started to truly take in the small details of what was around you.

Artoria was splattered with blood; your blood, you noted. Behind her was a homunculus that seemed quite familiar though you were sure that you had never met. In the chill of the night, wails filled the air, reverberating violently against every stone wall, wails coming from your mouth. You began to scream, though with no will of your own, while gripping the spear that was burrowed deeply between your ribs. In the mind that wasn’t your own you felt the crushing emptiness of failure; failure as a knight, as a husband, as a servant. Falling to your knees and impaling yourself further, you threw your head back in anger, wetness flowing from your eyes and mouth. It was agonizing to feel each and every ridge on the red spear slamming against your organs. Was this how Cu met one of his ends?

“Do you want to win that badly!” You wailed, spewing red. Everyone else stayed silent, either in horror or disdain. Every breath was agonizing, tearing through your chest and forcing blood from between your lips. “You want the grail so desperately that you’d crush the only wish I hold in my heart!” You recognized the voice coming from your lips so distinctly and yet you couldn’t quite put your finger on who it belonged to. 

At your left, a group people had emerged from the shadows of a building. The mind that wasn’t your own recognized two of them, one consigned to a wheelchair while holding the other’s limp, almost lifeless body.  _ Kayneth and Sola-Ui _ , the names came to your mind as if you’d already known them,  _ you have failed me more than I have failed you _ . The rage came in waves as soon as you saw their faces, making your hands shake. The man next to them was recognized by your own mind, the agent of the Counter Force that only went by assassin. Was this what he had done in his life before he turned into a servant? Somehow, you knew that he was the cause of your great suffering. 

“Do none of you feel any shame at all?” this was directed at Artoria and she stumbled backwards at the vitriol in your tone. Again you felt a crushing sense of unending failure and purposelessness, strangling every ounce of light from your mind. “I won’t forgive you! I won’t forgive any of you for this! All of you monsters who disregard a knight’s honor for personal gain…” 

So, he was a knight? Perhaps it was one of the round table pitted against their own king, but you didn’t know any of Artoria’s knights that wielded a spear. “Let my blood taint your dreams! Let the grail be cursed!” As you screamed you could feel your extremities begin to turn to dust, your head flopping down. In that brief moment you caught your reflection in the puddle of your own blood growing larger by the minute and recognized it, despite the blood red eyes and the terrible sneer on it’s lips. No, no this couldn’t be him…

“Let the wish it grants bring disaster!” You… no, Diarmuid wailed into the night sky, blood gurgling from his damaged lungs, “And when you fall into the pits of hell, remember the rage of Diarmuid!” The last of his body disintegrated into the air, swept away by the wind. The last thing you felt before blackness overtook your mind, even stronger than rage and failure, was regret.

Your eyes shot open for the second time, as the last remnants of the dream faded, to the blackness of your room. It took a moment to acclimate back to reality but you could still feel the phantom memories and sensations creeping across your skin. The chill in the air, the blood in your mouth, the spear in your chest; it was all entirely real. Without even realizing it you sat up, wrapping your arms around your shaking body. Sobs began to wrack your body, your tears so warm against your cheeks that you had to check if they were blood, the same blood that had run down Diarmuid’s cheeks… 

Slowly, though, as you took a few deep breaths and centered yourself, you realized you weren’t actually in your own room. At your side a man stirred, slowly rising from his sleep and turning to face you. “Is everything alright, my love?” Diarmuid yawned, blinking repeatedly and reaching for your hand. It would have been easy to simply wipe away your tears and go back to sleep but somehow you knew it wasn’t an option, not when the sight of the man you loved dying an agonizing death at his own hands was so fresh in your mind, flashing against your eyelids every time you blinked.

“No,” you whispered, voice rough from your tears, “No, I’m not alright,” 

In seconds Diarmuid had wrapped you tightly in his arms, pressing your head gently against his chest as he worried over you. “What’s troubling you, what can I do,” Looking for comfort, you lifted your face to meet his gaze, but as you looked into his eyes all you could see in the darkness was red. So much red. Dripping from his eyes, from his mouth… you started crying again before you could set yourself straight. 

Unfortunately, Diarmuid had no clue about the inner machinations of your mind. Assuming he had somehow upset you, he released you from his grip immediately and rose from the bed at an inhuman speed, turning away from you. “I apologize Master,” his words came through gritted teeth, “I wasn’t aware that I had displeased you. Perhaps I should leave you for the night? We could talk about this in the morning,” Panic filled your chest. He couldn’t leave you, you couldn’t face the darkness alone. 

“No,” you yelled, reaching out towards Diarmuid, “please don’t go… I just need you to turn on the lights,” Loyal as ever, he obliged. Once the lights were on and he was walking back towards the bed your tears had stopped flowing and your heart had stopped racing, making it much easier to think objectively. Diarmuid was there in front of you alive and well, albeit a little confused and hurt. There was nothing immediate to be afraid of. 

The knight slowly approached you as if you would disappear at any moment, eyes filled with worry. “Master, what have I done to warrant your fear? Why do you look at me as if I have hurt you?” You were quick to correct him. 

“I’m not afraid of you Diar, I promise,” you said as he slipped back into bed, sitting by your side, “I just had a nightmare,” He hummed thoughtfully in response. In the light you were able to appreciate his softness, the gentility in his gaze, the love in every touch he laid upon your skin. How could someone so good inside be betrayed so badly? How could a voice that spoke to you with such kindness contain such rage? You confessed, “I saw your past,”

Diarmuid stilled, pensive. “What exactly did you see?” His tone was still just as kind without a hint of accusation. It just reminded you that no matter what, he was still the kind, selfless knight that had won your heart and shyly invited you to spend the night in his room. Just because he had suffered so deeply in a past grail war didn’t mean he held that same rage for you, did it? His curses were meant for a previous master, not you.

“I watched you die,” you whispered, gripping his hand tightly in yours, “It was night time and you were dueling with Artoria,” Diarmuid’s eyes widened in recognition. He knew exactly what you had seen, and yet you continued, “ You were compelled to kill yourself and you were in so much pain. I could  _ feel _ all your pain, all of the hate you felt for yourself and for them. When I saw your face, all the agony you were in, I just couldn’t do it…”

“Master,” he ran his fingers gently down your cheek, now crying himself, “I would rather die that death a thousand times than force you to witness it even once. I apologize for making you suffer,” Quickly, you threw your arms around him and pressed your face to the crook of his neck, breathing in the soft scent of his shampoo and his detergent. It made you grateful that Diarmuid enjoyed little human comforts like pajamas. It eased your mind, separating him from the man you’d seen debased and alone in your dream. 

“Can I ask you something?” You were ever so gentle as you loosened your grip, running a hand through Diarmuid’s hair. He nodded a yes. “Do you feel any of the rage towards me? I mean… I’m-“ 

Diarmuid cut you off with a kiss. It was passionate and yet soft, filling your heart up with an endless warmth that then spread through the rest of your body. If you had been standing your knees would’ve gone weak from the pure emotion you felt radiating from the knight as he pulled away and quickly came back for more. By the time you regained your senses there was barely a whisper of the anxiety you felt before left in your heart, all replaced with adoration as you looked up at Diarmuid, your chests pressed together and your hearts beating quickly in sync. 

“If that was not enough of an answer,” Diarmuid muttered as he leaned down and pressed a line of kisses from your neck to your collarbone, “I could never feel the same way for you that I felt towards Kayneth and Sola-Ui. Though both of you left a lasting impression on my spirit origin, they twisted me and my dreams beyond recognition. Kayneth was average as a master at first, using me as any would to reach his goal, but his fiance complicated things. Your Magic Resistance protects you from my curse, but she was not so lucky,” 

“Oh,” you gasped, partially at the revelation and partially because Diarmuid made no attempts to pause his ministrations, pressing his mouth quickly to your neck, forehead, and cheeks between words as he spoke. 

“My master began to distrust me and it made the bond between us strained. He despised me for failing him, for seducing his wife, for not doing enough, and yet he relied on me to win the one thing he cared about more than anything else; the grail,” Diarmuid’s words were soft against your skin. No matter how horrible the story they wove, they still lulled you and served as a reminder that he was still here. His heart had survived and fate had led him to you, the person who would heal his body and soul no matter the cost. “In the end, he perished only shortly after I did. It was a fitting end for a man such as him. You are the antithesis of everything that Kayneth was. Where he berated me, you build me up. Where he found flaws, you have found cherished strengths. I could never ask for a better partner or master than you. So no, I feel no rage towards you, my dearest Master, I swear that on my honor as a knight of Fianna,”

When he flopped down at your side you embraced him, cuddling close and attempting to leech away all of his warmth. “Thank you,” you said as you kissed his cheek, “for both your explanation and kissing me senseless,” Diarmuid chuckled lightly as he embraced you.

“There is no need to thank me,  _ mo ghrá.  _ You know as well as I do that worshipping your beauty is something that I enjoy as much as you do,” He sat up and departed from your embrace, rushing to turn off the light across the room. “And there is no part of myself that I will ever keep from you. No matter if you were to ask me about the proudest parts of my life or the most shameful, I would always answer you truthfully. You are the woman I have chosen to love and honor till the end of time, so what’s mine is yours,” 

The light was soon turned off and Diarmuid was back at your side, tracing gentle circles onto the bare skin of your arm. Even in the darkness the man before you wasn’t a monster made of rage, instead he was an honorable knight you would trust with your life and your heart. No matter what his past held, it was the present that mattered. Still, though, you were filled with endless questions. As if he could sense your unease, Diarmuid sat up again, letting your head rest on his lap. 

“You know that I am finely attuned to your emotions Master,” his voice was hushed and throaty as he played with your hair, “what do you require from me to still your troubled mind?” 

“I was just wondering what happened to that rage?” You asked shyly. He sighed, his smile only faltering slightly. 

“I don’t exactly know,” Slowly he placed a kiss on the top of your head, “the next time I was summoned by the grail I had been impacted enough that I remembered my time in Fuyuki, and yet I only felt a fraction of the betrayal and hatred I felt before. If I had to guess it split off and created a second me within the grail, a little like Jeanne Alter, that was consumed by the hatred he felt. Unfortunately we may never know.”

You gave a thoughtful nod before laughing lightly. Confused, Diarmuid leaned in but you just bombarded him with a flurry of light, playful kisses. “I hope that part of you is never summoned here, I don’t know what I would do with two handsome knights vying for my love and affection,” Almost jealous, he gave a playful growl, nipping at the soft place beneath your chin and grinning predatorily.

“I suppose I’ll just have to prove to you my superiority, Master,” The taunt was an empty threat. You knew as well as he did that all of his grand romantic gestures were for your enjoyment more than his own ego, but the low rumbling in his chest made your heart skip a few beats and sent a shiver all the way down to your toes. As he dove in for the kill, positioning himself above you and kissing you deeply once again, you couldn’t help but melt into the hard expanse of Diarmuid’s body. Perhaps the nightmare hadn’t been so bad after all… 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I haven’t wated Fate/Zero in a while so some of the details might be a little bit off, but I think it all works. I’ve been meaning to write more loving and soft yet absolutely flirty and insatiable Diarmuid, so I had fun writing this fluffy angsty little fic. Today’s fic was written very very loosely based on the song Sympathy, Tenderness, mostly because the self insert is dealing with the juxtaposition between her Diarmuid and the Diarmuid she saw in her nightmare. I’m still curious about if any of you guys want to see a part two of any of the existing fics, because I plan pretty far into the future and I’d love to be able to work those into this fic collection if you’re at all interested. If not, I love to hear what you think about there chapters, so feel free to leave me a comment! I love to see them <3 Thank you again for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


	13. I Wish I Was Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though Diarmuid has showed his love for you a thousand different ways, you know his heart will always belong to the woman who whisked him away all those years ago.

The first time you saw Grainne, you didn’t know it was her. You dreamed of a woman running through a forest and laughing, her long hair flowing behind her in a cascade of perfect golden strands. Though she spoke in a language unfamiliar to you, you knew exactly what she was saying.  _ Come, my love _ , she whispered as her bare feet danced across the soft mossy undergrowth,  _ come where he will never find us _ . She was the most gorgeous woman you had ever seen. It only made sense that she was the most beautiful maiden in Ireland at the time. 

You and Diarmuid hadn’t gotten together yet when you had that first dream. He was still a newcomer at Chaldea, incredibly loyal yet soft spoken and shy. He followed Fionn around like a shadow, a silent bodyguard repaying a debt of years past, and yet you noticed that he started to talk a bit more when you were around. Slowly, he came out of his shell and revealed his true self to you. When you fell for him, you fell hard and fast. 

It was easy to love Diarmuid from afar at first. You knew about his curse and the terrible experiences he had with love before so you didn’t dare tell him how you felt. Instead you brought him along on more missions, enjoying the small moments you would share where you weren’t just master and servant, but compatriots fighting for a common cause. Over time, though, it wasn’t enough. You yearned to know him, to share meals with him, to be close to him… Finally, the dam broke. 

You were camping out in a training simulation when he sat next to you, shoulder brushing against yours. “Can we talk, Master?” Diarmuid had asked. His voice was laced with anxiety, and yet he still smiled at you. You nodded. In that moment it was as if time stood still and a million different possibilities were laid out in front of you. Thankfully, fate was on your side; you got a good ending. “The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable with me but I cannot deny my heart any longer. You are more than my equal in every way and I have found myself becoming more and more infatuated with you by the day. I am ashamed to say that my thoughts of you have been getting in the way of my duties as a knight. If you wish to reject me, I will never mention these feelings I have for the rest of time, but if you even feel a fraction of the same way for me, I hope that you will give me a chance to court you.”

His words were so put together and yet you could feel his carefully constructed facade crumbling by the second. You took his hand in yours then, smiling, and managed to whisper, “I would like that very much,” Never before had you seen Diarmuid so visibly excited. For the rest of the evening he was more vocal than you had ever seen him, happily dealing with any enemies that got in your way and practically glowing when you asked him to keep watch outside of your tent. That night you dreamed of Grainne once again. 

This time she was a little older than she had been before but her features were just as perfect. Sitting next to a warm hearth, not unlike the one at your own campsite, she was braiding her long golden hair and pinning it up to her head while her brown eyes glinted in the firelight. Every curve and plane of her lithe form was a temptation to your false body; she truly was unlike any women you had ever seen. A sweet perfume hung in the air, almost minty and floral. As the dream faded the woman looked back at you and grinned, holding out her arms. With no agency of your own, you accepted her embrace. 

After that night you and Diarmuid were almost inseparable. He would accompany you on every mission and then, when you had washed off the day’s sweat, he would accompany you for dinner and spend the rest of the evening with you until he departed for his own room at dusk. But, soon, you ran into the inevitable. On a night not different from any other, while Diarmuid was resting his head in your lap and you were playing with his soft, black hair, you finally asked the question that had been eating away at you. “What was Grainne like?” 

He stilled slightly, sighing. “Grainne was a woman unlike you in many ways,” he muttered. “she was the most beautiful maiden in Ireland. Long blond hair, deep brown eyes, skin like milk… but I don’t want to talk about her. Thinking of my time with her brings me nothing but pain,” As he muttered, wistful, your heart was stopping. You knew. You knew the woman you had seen in your dreams was his Grainne. It broke your heart to hear his soft fondness for her. It wasn’t unexpected, she was his wife and partner for many years, and yet the jealousy that bloomed in your chest was strange and new. A seed of discord in an otherwise wonderful love… it grew roots quickly.

The frequency of the dreams picked up, plaguing your waking and sleeping hours alike. It seemed like at least once or twice a week you were looking at Grainne through Diarmuid’s eyes. You watched her frolic and sleep and eat, you even saw her in their most intimate moments. It ripped at your heart to see her in a position where you couldn’t be, but you knew why you’d never catch Diarmuid’s eye in the same way she did. 

For all intents and purposes, Grainne was a golden goddess. Her eyes, her voice, her body… everything about her put you to shame. How could you compare to the most beautiful woman in Ireland? Each passing day you grew cold, shying away from Diarmuid’s words and touch. How could he kiss you when he had known her touch? How could he love you when he had loved a woman like her? After a particularly bad dream, you found yourself walking through the halls to Fionn’s room. You needed answers.

Knocking softly, it only took a moment before the door opened to you and you saw Fionn’s tired visage. He perked up at the sight of you, dressed in a fluffy terry cloth robe, and let you in without a single word. Your eyes were puffy and red, tearmarks streaming down your face as you flopped down on a nearby chair and let yourself cry again. Your pajama shorts left you vulnerable to the chill but you didn’t care. As if he could tell, Fionn brought you a blanket from his bed and wrapped it around you gently, sitting patiently at your side until you calmed down. 

“Why does he love me?” You sniffled. It took Fionn a moment to get over the sudden nature of the question, but he took your hand in his comfortingly.

“Would you like me to list reasons or would you rather tell me what’s going on?” It was surprising to see Fionn so calm, a total juxtaposition against his usual boisterous self. You were grateful; he was the only one who knew the answers to your questions besides Diarmuid and you definitely couldn't ask  _ him _ . He might never forgive you. 

You gulped down a breath and wrapped the blanket tighter around your shoulders, “I’ve been having dreams about Grainne,” Fionn nodded knowingly. 

“Ah yes, Grainne. I see now.” He hummed, leaning in to give you a comforting hug. “I assume you haven’t told him about any of these dreams?” You shook your head no, still trembling. How could you have told him? What would you even say?

“I see her from his eyes and I just… she’s gorgeous, Fionn. How could I ever compare to her? I have to witness them together, free, happy. I can’t ever give him that. He and I haven’t even slept together yet, and how could I expect him to?” You were starting to ramble now, running your hands through your hair roughly and gripping it as you went. “He’s been with her, he married her, he  _ loved _ her. I can never be good enough for him. If I told him I know he wouldn’t even pretend anymore, he’d leave,” 

Fionn guffawed. “I don’t think you give him enough credit, little Master,” It was confusing. Why was Fionn, someone who knew Grainne’s beauty and draw better than anybody else, thinking Diarmuid could ever love you as much as he loved her? He continued, “I can’t speak for my knight, but I think you should tell him how you’ve been feeling and what you’ve been seeing. I think you’ll be surprised by how he reacts. I knew him back then, even if I only saw him briefly in the years after his initial escape with Grainne, and he was never as happy with her as he is with you. Please believe me that from what I’ve seen, he loves you and wants nothing more than to see you happy,” 

Though you nodded in agreement with him, you didn’t believe a single word he said. It was impossible for him to know what you saw, what you knew… when you returned to your room that night, still wrapped in Fionn’s spare blanket, your heart started to crumble. Everything inside you felt cold and clammy, broken. The dreams only kept coming and worst of all, now they came every night. 

Whenever you managed to close your eyes the first things you saw were her golden hair and chocolate brown eyes. You could tell the Diarmuid was starting to catch on when you dropped him from the main mission team and started cancelling dates, not that it mattered. He didn’t care, not really. As days without real sleep passed, the line between which dreams were real visions of the past and which were tortured imaginings made by your own mind grew less and less distinct. 

The day everything broke down you dreamed of Grainne pregnant. She was still delightfully tiny, even as her stomach protruded through her thin summer gown, so much tinier than you would ever be. Her smile was broad as she reached for Diarmuid’s hand and placed in on her bump, giggling.  _ Do you feel him kicking, my love?  _ she asked, and you did. You felt the thump of a tiny arm or foot against the hand extended from your phantom body and pride soared in your false chest. That was what shattered you, fully destroying any hope you had left.

As you shot awake into the light of the early dawn you couldn’t control the wet sobs escaping from your mouth. The final straw was his children, his legacy that she had born and raised with her own body and mind. You could never give him a legacy. Never once could you provide that rush of paternal love and pride the way that she did because it was simply impossible. Truly Grainne had one upped you in every single possible way. It wasn’t worth trying to surpass her anymore. You resolved that once you could stop crying, once your body stopped collapsing in on itself, you would go to Diarmuid and break it off for his own good. That time never came. 

You spent the entire morning with your arms wrapped around your knees, curled up into the smallest ball you could possibly manage. The passage of time didn’t matter anymore, just the need to become smaller and smaller and disappear into your sheets until you weren’t there anymore. When energy returned to you, you used it all to scream and curse Grainne’s name before it left you just as drained as you had been before, as if you never had the burst of energy at all. When you heard the knock at your door you didn’t bother to even call out or answer. It was too difficult to even do that.

“Master,” the knocker called out and your stomach flipped. Why did it have to be Diarmuid? “The farming party is waiting for you in the rayshift room, should I let them know you won’t be around?” You stayed silent, praying that maybe if you didn’t answer he would go away. He waited a few moments before you heard him sigh lightly, “I’m going to go tell them they have the day off, but after that I’m coming back. Whatever is troubling you, I promise I will be here for you,”

As his footsteps got further and further away you heaved out another choking sob as you stumbled out of bed and tried to put yourself together. It was terrifying to think that Diarmuid would see you like this, especially when looking at yourself through the lens of Grainne. She probably never cried like this, never wailed so hard her lungs hurt and her face was a terrible swollen red. You didn’t know if that made you put her on a higher pedestal or hate her more, maybe both. Just as promised, Diarmuid entered your room about 15 minutes later, right as you got yourself under some semblance of control. 

“Hey Diar,” you said, voice weak. He walked towards you cautiously, like you were about to break, but that just made you laugh inside your head. How could he break what’s already broken? “Sorry I haven’t seen you for a bit, I’ve been… busy,” 

“It’s alright Master,” he replied, voice filled with false compassion, “can I ask what’s bothering you?”

It would’ve been so easy to tell the truth. In that moment, with Grainne’s name burning a hole on the tip of your tongue, you could have spewed out the vicious acid that had been eating away at your soul for the past few months, but you didn’t. Instead, you swallowed it back down, letting it fester a bit longer. “I’m just tired Diar, I haven’t been sleeping well and I need to rest.”  _ Coward _ you thought to yourself,  _ you can’t even let him be happy _ . He didn’t buy it one bit, sitting on the edge of your bed with a frown and a furrow between his brows. 

“Darling, please don’t think that I’m being too forward, but I know there’s something else,” As he paused he reached out to touch you and you flinched away. Everything about you was proving his point. “See? Please, Master, tell me what’s burdening you? Let me help?” Finally, the dam broke. All of the rage and jealousy and hatred flowed out of your heart and flooded your body, burning every single inch of your flesh with its poisonous vitriol. 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore Diarmuid. I don’t think I can be with you anymore,” Your voice ripped out of your chest like a growl, stunning Diarmuid into silence. Looking back, you wished that you could forget the look on his face. Horror, guilt, shame, he took everything on himself. “I can’t always be second! I can’t live knowing you’re pretending to love me every time you kiss me and hold my hand. I just can’t and you shouldn’t have to. Please Diar, let me let you go, for both our sakes,” 

It took a good minute for Diarmuid to come up with a response as you cried. He reached out a hand as if to touch you, comfort you, but it wilted slowly back into himself. “Master,” his voice was tremulous as he processed, “what in the world do you think you’re second to? I promise you that nothing I have ever done or felt or said for you has been artifice. You are my lov-“

“Stop!” You spat, “you don’t mean that! You’ve never meant that! You love her!” Your volume lowered suddenly to a barely audible hush, “you love Grainne,”

Diarmuid froze. “Excuse my vulgarity, but what in the seven hells are you talking about?” Darker, he said, “that viper does not belong between us. She tormented me for years, she has no right to torment you,” That made you laugh, a vicious sharp thing.

“You didn’t think of her as a viper when you were running with her!” Your once calm tone was replaced with desperate shouts. “I  _ see _ what you saw Diarmuid, when I dream. I feel what you felt. I know you loved her in all her golden fucking perfection! I have watched you make love to her through your eyes and you can’t imagine how horrible it made me feel to know you could never want me physically. When I asked about her you even admitted she was nothing like me. How could you love me when I’m not close to the woman she was? How could you lie to me for all this time when she’s the one who has your heart?” By the end of your rant it was as if your body had finally been purged of all the poison that had ailed you since you first knew about Grainne. You expected Diarmuid to leave, to turn away from you and leave you alone, but suddenly you felt a pair of warm, strong arms lifting you up and pulling you close to a broad, soft chest.

“I am so sorry that I ever made you feel so alone,” Diarmuid whispered into your hair, voice rough, “and I’m sorry that I allowed you to suffer alone,” As he pulled you closer you stopped being able to control your tears. It was a massive purge of pain as he held you and shushed you, wiping away the wetness from your cheeks. “Grainne was my wife and as time passed I grew to care for her, and I will not lie and say I did not love the children she gave me with all my heart, but I never loved her. She used me, Master, forced me under geas to run away with her. Though over time I learned to care for her, it was out of necessity. As time passed and I became more and more separated from her after my time in the Throne of Heroes I realized just how much I despised Grainne. I do not love her. I will never love her. But Master, I love  _ you _ .”

You knew every word was true. Diarmuid’s love surrounded you and cleansed you, taking each and every tiny piece of your shattered heart and putting it back together. You started to apologize, to try to make up for the weeks of cold you had given him, but he just continued to shush you, running comforting fingers through your hair. Diarmuid didn’t want your apologies, he just wanted your happiness and safety. He repeated himself, soft and slow, as you took a few deep breaths, “I love you, I love you, I love you. My sweet Master, every bit of you is gorgeous. Your body, your eyes, your voice, your hair, your smile; every single piece of you is just the way it’s meant to be. I wouldn’t want you to be anything other than what you already are.”

“It’s not your fault,” you muttered, pressing your face into his neck, “I should’ve told you about the dreams. Fionn told me to but I didn’t listen,” 

Diarmuid tutted softly, kissing your hair again. “Don’t you dare put all of this on yourself. Seeing what you saw would make anybody feel this way. You don’t need to blame yourself and hate yourself because there’s nothing to feel bad for. I’m here with you, I still love you just as much as I did before you told me all this if not more.” 

For the first time in a long time you smiled, happy just to be close to Diarmuid and feel so loved. “So it doesn’t matter that I can’t have your kids? And you don’t care that you don’t want me physically?”

He snorted as he laughed, head rearing back. “Do you honestly believe that I don’t desire you? I think you are more attractive and more… intoxicating than any other woman in the universe; past, present, or future. I simply have been waiting for the right time to approach the subject, but you’ve been so distant lately my love. I assumed you would not appreciate me pushing my desires on you while you felt so low,” It was relieving to hear, but you knew now was not the time for fervored kisses and passionate touches. What you both needed was soft, tender care.

“Thank you,” you whispered, breath evening out under Diarmuid’s careful care, “thank you for loving me,” 

“Loving you isn’t a choice, there’s no reason for you to thank me,” his voice caught in his throat a bit, “I have never been more afraid than I was when you told me you didn’t want to stay with me. I was terrified that I had broken you, that something I had said or done had hurt you so badly that you weren’t willing to let me try again,” Never before had you seen Diarmuid seem so fragile. He was alway strong, a knight of honor who would never let himself show weakness to his king, but now you saw the man beneath the title, the one who had been torn away from his friends by a woman with no heart, Suddenly, Grainne didn’t seem like quite so much of a goddess. 

“Diar?” You asked softly, “do you think you could stay with me today?” He gave you a bit of a squeeze as he responded.

“Of course, darling, I think we both could use some rest and relaxation today. How about a movie? I’ve heard Chaldea has a rather large collection of titles spanning many decades, so I doubt we won’t find something to your liking,” You couldn’t help but smile as Diarmuid set you down on the bed and went to turn on the nearby TV. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be alright.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to acieoJ for giving me today’s song, which is a mash-up of Heather by Conan Grey and Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi! I heard it and knew I had to write an angsty fix involving Grainne. I’m actually pretty happy about how this turned out, so I hope you enjoyed it! I love to see your comments so don’t be afraid to let me know what you felt about this chapter. Thank you once again for reading and supporting my work!


	14. Little Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a massive coincidence you and Diarmuid choose the same day to share good news and ask an important question. It will truly be a morning to remember.
> 
> Takes place after arc one of F/GO, in this AU the Lostbelts never happen.

“Diar, we need to get up,” you muttered as he buried his face deeper in your neck and pulled you closer to his body. As expected, he simply grumbled and feigned distaste. Outside of your small, newly shared room Chaldea was up and running for the day, but inside you were enjoying your first day off in a very, very long time. Thankfully for you, it seemed like you’d be getting a lot more in the future. “Seriously, I think I’m gonna vomit, you need to get up and we need to talk,” 

Finally he heaved a melodramatic sigh and let you up, rolling onto his back and wiping the sleep out of his eyes. “Of course darling,” despite his slightly childish initial reaction, Diarmuid was reliable as ever as he sat up and lifted you into his arms, “I shall assist you and then we can have a chat while I get DaVinci to send someone over with breakfast. I assume you want something light on your stomach?”

“Yes, please,” 

You were endlessly grateful for Diarmuid’s superhuman strength, especially when it meant he was able to carry you all the way to the toilet without jostling you at all, allowing you to perfectly time your vomiting with the moment your knees hit the bathroom tile. On cue, Diarmuid held back your hair. He had no right to be as perfect as he was. As you heaved, emptying the last remaining contents of your stomach into the toilet, he rubbed gentle circles into your back and shoulders, whispering soft words of encouragement. 

“It’s alright darling,” he said after a particularly long heave, “I’ve got you, don’t worry,” As soon as you were done he was already waiting at your side with a small paper cup of mouthwash and a calming smile. You took the cup with a soft thanks and swished quickly. By the time you finished you already felt a million times better than you had before. Emerging from the bathroom, it was easy to fall back into the sleepy lull you had enjoyed shortly before. Still you knew that wasn’t an option, you needed to talk to Diarmuid today.

When you approached him he was pulling his soft t-shirt over his head in favor of his everyday armor. You stopped to enjoy the view, smirking when his eyes met yours and squinted in a playful challenge.  _ I dare you to jump me and make sure I never have to change out of my pajamas _ , you could imagine him taunting, but you resisted, no matter how much you loved the sight of your knight in various states of undress. You had a goal and you needed to reach it. Almost disappointed, he tossed the shirt at you as he pulled on his shoes and started doing up his belts.

“I thought you said you’d get breakfast delivered” Your voice was filled with amusement as you took the shirt and put it into the nearby hamper. Diarmuid just huffed in response, running a hand through his sleep tousled hair. 

“That I did… damn, since when have I gotten this forgetful?” Diarmuid mumbled, sweeping in for a quick kiss before striding purposefully towards the door, “I will be back before you know it with breakfast and medicine. Fear not, my dearest, I won’t forget anything this time!” In a flash he was out the door, leaving the faintest trace of warmth on your lips. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the empty air; since when had he gotten so carefree?

As promised, Diarmuid was back in less than 10 minutes and with him came a small silver cart laden with plenty of light breakfast foods. Toast with butter and jam, cubes of fresh fruit, fluffy waffles, and slices of vegetable frittata all paired with a pot of peppermint tea and a small pitcher of fruit juice… you could feel your stomach grumble as you looked at the lush spread before you. “How did you manage all this?” You gushed.

Diarmuid, in return, looked a little too proud for his own good as he set a small packet of pills down next to the tea. “You doubt the ability of your most loyal knight?” In no time at all the cart was rolled up to the small table that sat against your wall and you both were sitting down with full plates. “I called ahead and told that red archer that you haven’t been feeling well lately, so he made a special breakfast for a special day,” You almost choked on a grape. 

“Special occasion?” You chewed and swallowed, getting rid of the choking hazard. Though you were trying your very best to seem innocent, you were sure the look on your face gave you away. “What would make today a special occasion? Did I forget your birthday?” Unfortunately, Diarmuid knew you far too well to not know you were hiding something. He had enough wit to know he’d never get it out of you if he asked you directly, so instead he just continued to eat his breakfast unbothered.

“No, my birthday is in a few months,” his words were soft as he reached across the table to feed you a strawberry from between his fingers. You bit into the perfectly ripe fruit, enjoying the juice that ran down your chin and giggling softly as Diarmuid pulled his hand away and went to wipe it up with a nearby napkin. “Today is going to be something new and exciting for the both of us,” The facade you had built up for weeks slowly began to falter. Did he already know? 

Finishing up the last bite of your frittata, you gave in. “Alright, if we both have something exciting planned for today I think we should get it all over with now. Breakfast was wonderful and I want to properly enjoy my day off with you without worrying about when a surprise is going to happen,” Diarmuid grinned knowingly, damn him and his excellent perception. “Alright, on the count of three we rip off the bandaid. One, two, three,”

“I’m pregnant,”

“I want to get married,”

Sudden joy bubbled up through your chest, warming every bit of your body and making your heart beat just a little bit quicker. Diarmuid looked just as shocked and thrilled, reaching over to clutch your hand. His hands were shaking, and in less than a second tears were starting to fall from his eyes as he stood up and walked to your side, kneeling down. “Pregnant?” He asked, incredulous, “It finally worked? You’re not joking?”

“Of course I’m not joking. Do you think I’ve been miserable every morning as part of a long-con?” Your gentle ribbing did nothing to mar the pure awe on your knight’s face. Even as you wiped at his tears he could do nothing more than hold your hand and weep happily. Never before had you felt as much joy as you did looking down at the father of your first child. You found yourself crying too, from excitement and raw happiness. 

When Diarmuid finally spoke again he was still crying. “How long have you known?”

You shrugged a bit, using a napkin to mop up the remaining tears from your cheeks. The time for your tears was over, at least for the time being. Now it was important to give Diarmuid every detail you knew about the child growing inside you. “I found out a few weeks ago, but I’m about 10 weeks in. I told you today because I have my first ultrasound with DaVinci and the medical staff tomorrow and I want you to come with me, if that’s something you’d want to do,” 

Maybe it was simply the lighting but Diarmuid looked even more radiant than usual. In fact, even your small room with it’s white walls and metallic furniture could have been a palace when you looked at it in that perfect moment. A golden lining adorned everything as your knight got up from the floor and embraced you, making sure not to squeeze too hard. Nothing else in the world could have made you feel as good as you did when he finally kissed you, softly, and took your breath away as if it were the first time

When he pulled away, his words were honeyed, as if simply being in your presence intoxicated him completely. “Of course I’ll come with you. I believe that today is the happiest day of my entire existence. You have given me so much joy Master, I don’t know how I will ever be able to repay you,” 

“You can start by bringing me more breakfasts like that,” you chuckled softly, “and maybe making that beef and potato stew you blessed me with last fall… and pumpkin bread...” 

“Master, you can have as much stew and pumpkin bread as your little heart desires,” Diarmuid’s voice was husky and dark as he lifted you gently from your seat at the table and carried you back to bed, “as long as you know that I am not letting you out of my sight for the next seven months,” It didn’t come as a surprise to you that Diarmuid felt fiercely protective, so you simply smushed your face into his tunic and nodded along, enjoying the attention. “I, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, vow that I will protect you and my child until my very last breath. No harm shall come to either of you for as long as I remain alive,”

He set you down gently, careful not to jostle you too much, before laying down next to you as gingerly as possible. Even his touch was feather light, as if you might break at any moment. Though you knew it would ruin the mood, you knew you had to set one thing straight. Clearing your throat, you asked, “Will you be there for him even after I’m gone?” Diarmuid went still then, looking at you with a hidden fierceness and cupping your cheek. 

“Why would you speak of that?” He whispered, “Of course I will, but why do you need to be so sure? Are you worried about the pregnancy? I know you’re young and the experience is new to you but DaVinci and the doctors here and wonderful, you have nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not about the pregnancy or anything like that,” you gestured absentmindedly as Diarmuid stared at you, confused, “I just won’t live forever like you will. Even if I somehow end up in the throne of heroes who knows if I’ll ever be summoned. If Chaldea is dismantled our child can become your master, and as the years go on and they have children and their children have children you can be with them every step of the way in a way I can’t. I just need to know that if anything happens to me you’ll still be there for them, no matter what,”

Diarmuid nodded for a moment, pensive, before coming up with an answer. “I can promise that I will stay for as long as I can, but even if my body can last an eternity I’m afraid my mind cannot. At some point I will have to return to the throne to rest my soul, but that day will come many many years in the future.” You couldn’t have asked for a better answer. “I am too familiar with the concept of eternal consciousness and I’m afraid that is the one thing I cannot promise you. I don’t doubt that my foster father still breathes life into my true body every now and again on a whim, and that existence is not a kind one. I would much rather return to my great reward after shepherding our family than never truly rest.”

At a snail's pace you rolled over, letting your upper body rest on Diarmuid’s chest as you settled down for a lazy day in. The last remains of the food were left forgotten on the table where he would later clean them up, but both of your minds were far away from breakfast now. Instead, you thought of the future, shimmering brightly like a diamond deep within your thoughts, filled with endless possibilities. It surprised you when Diarmuid shifted, digging through his pocket for something. “There is still one question that has gone unanswered,” he said, pulling out a small box, “will you marry me?”

Strangely, you had forgotten all about the proposal. Somewhere between the hormones and emotions it had been swept under the rug until this moment where Diarmuid presented you with the box containing your ring. When the box was opened, you found the ring was a sturdy little thing, made of twisted strands of gold and small, deep green stones. It was everything you had dreamed of and more. “Yes,” you said, “I would love to marry you Diarmuid,” 

He smiled as he slid the ring onto your finger before pulling you into his embrace. “Now that that’s all out of the way, how would you like to spend the rest of your day off, Master?” 

You thought for a moment before nestling deeper into your lover… no, fiancé’s warmth, humming with delight. “I’ll do absolutely anything as long as I’m with you,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This was a bit shorter than usual, but that’s because I’m preparing the first chapter of my other Diarmuid/Reader fic, so I didn’t have as much time to write. Today’s song is Stranger from Big Fish, a musical that never fails to make me cry. I reccomend it 100%! Anyways, I hope you guys are enjoyed and are excited for my new project too. I love comments so don’t be afraid to leave me one if you liked this chapter. Thanks again for supporting me and my work!


	15. I Wanna Be Loved By You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fianna, New York’s premier Irish criminal group since the early 1800’s, has been suffering a massive decline ever since the Chulainn brothers moved into town. Fionn, the leader, visits an ex-member’s speakeasy in an attempt to re-recruit him but finds that something else is much more important to him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20’s Slang Guide
> 
> juice joint - speakeasy  
> put on the ritz - to do something in high style  
> sap - a fool or idiot  
> Jane - any female  
> Fly boy - aviator  
> Bell bottom - sailor  
> baby grand - heavily built man  
> Looker - pretty woman  
> Meat wagon - ambulance

The year was 1922, the month April. New York was a cesspool of criminal activity, with mobs snatching up sectors left and right. The Laughing King Alliance ruled over Queens, run by 2 ruthless and rich men known only as Ozymandias and Gilgamesh. They were known for their smarts when it came to booking. If anybody managed to find an illegal operation they ran from behind, they’d never find a single scrap of evidence connecting the two leaders. They rolled in money and worked mostly in bootlegging and drug smuggling. 

The Round was in charge of Brooklyn. Bordering the Laughing Kings, The Round was run by an ambitious young man by the name of Arthur (though there were sources, all quickly silenced, that said Arthur might be a woman in disguise) who held the reigns of many ‘knights’, trained in espionage, subterfuge, and multiple types of combat. Of all the gangs in New York, The Round was the most deadly. Their specialty was extortion. They would offer businesses their protection, specifically ones of the illegal variant, and set up accidents if the business declined their help. Gossip on the street said that Gilgamesh was interested in working with Arthur and that when asked, Arthur sent one of his knights with a package containing the severed ear of one of Gilgamesh’s lackeys. The infighting since then had exploded. 

Finally, there was The Fianna. The oldest and most well-rooted of all the existing criminal organizations, it was run by Fionn Mac Cumhaill, the grandson of the original Mac Cumhaill who had founded the mob in his youth after immigrating in 1834. The Fianna were in charge of the Bronx and lorded over a line of speakeasies that catered to a… higher caliber of citizen than some others. Serving the police chiefs, city officials, and local royalty, The Fianna’s clubs were free from random sweeps or raids. They sat at the top of the food chain in the criminal underworld, or more honestly they had until fall of 1921.

That, in fact, was what had Fionn trudging through the early spring rain and muck in Manhattan. He had business to deal with of the utmost importance in the borough that served as a meeting ground for members of every gang. The business was so sensitive, in fact, he had asked his bodyguard not to accompany him. There was no room for threats, because Fionn was desperate and going to the one man he knew he couldn’t hope to threaten. The Fianna were in trouble and only one man could give them the hope of survival. 

You see, in October of 1921 four brothers of the house Chulainn had moved directly from Ireland to the West Bronx, bringing with them a criminal organization that threatened to destroy the Fianna for good. All of the brothers were referred to only by pseudonyms, adding to their mystery, and each served an important purpose within their gang. 

‘Caster’ Chulainn was the oldest of the brothers who served as the brains and put together anything that involved mathematics or extreme planning, followed by ‘Alter’ Chulainn. ‘Alter’ was by far the most deadly man Fionn had ever laid eyes on, working as the muscle and handling all the dirty work with a smile. He, of all the brothers, was the only one who wasn’t a massive womanizer, having settled down with a woman by the name of Medb who was a powerhouse in her own right. ‘Proto’ Chulainn was the youngest and greenest of all the brothers, and he had no specific job besides learning the ropes of everything in the hopes of finding his niche, though that didn’t detract from his worth. If anything, his jack-of-all-trades status had made him incredibly useful on the fly. That left only one brother, and he was the proudest of them all.

‘Lancer’ Chulainn was the head of the Chulainn criminal family. His wit and charm got him far with officials and average folk alike, making him a much appreciated alternative to Fionn’s learned arrogance. Another attribute that set him apart was his face. Though Fionn had proudly taken many women to his bed, he suddenly found himself overshadowed by ‘Lancer’, who held all women at rapt attention whenever he entered the room, and filled all men with a deep seated envy though left them impressed instead of jealous. Even Fionn himself had to admit that ‘Lancer’ was an adversary with a good chance of beating the Fianna, but he could not allow that to happen.

So, as the wind whisked dark clouds over Manhattan, Fionn ducked into an inconspicuous flower shop in search of an old friend. Walking quickly, he descended on the front desk with a fervor and rang the help bell. Almost immediately a small woman reached him. “How can I help you, sir?” She said, her voice taking on a false chipper tone. From all directions Fionn’s senses were assaulted by floral tones. Well at least it covered the scent of booze.

“A nosegay of easter lilies and cowslips,” everything about his tone dripped with annoyance and yet the woman seemed unphased. 

Her eyes betrayed nothing of the secret she kept as she pulled out a small pad of paper. “With baby’s breath?”

“Always,”

She nodded then, finally looking at him properly. “Can I have a name for that order?” 

“Fionn Mac Cumhaill,” he enjoyed the way the woman’s breath caught in her throat at the sound of his name. Ah, to be feared or respected, He didn’t care which as long as someone felt one or the other upon hearing his name. With a renewed vigor and a slight tremble in her hands, the woman led him silently to a door behind the counter and opened it with a key from the pocket of her plant-stained apron.

“Enjoy your afternoon, Mr. Mac Cumaill,” she almost whispered as he walked down the stairs before locking up behind him. Fionn paid her no mind, though, all of his thoughts were focused on the unfamiliar speakeasy before him.

Surprisingly for a Tuesday afternoon it was quite full, with couples dining at small cafe tables decorated with vases overflowing with flowers, which was a nice touch Fionn had to admit. The left side of the outfitted basement was a bar that lined the entirety of the wall, while the right side hosted the small, open-concept kitchen, and the far wall was taken up by a glimmering stage. Though he was feeling a bit hungry, Fionn beelined straight for the bar where the man he wished to see was working. 

Thankfully nobody else was seated at the bartop, though the bartender had more than his fair share of work in front of him, busy with polishing glasses and mixing the occasional drink. He was an exceedingly handsome man, this bartender, with golden eyes and hair much longer and messier than society tended to favor. There was a smooth nature to every movement he made, making every one of his actions seem like part of one, fluid dance as he moved bottles around and juggled clean glasses onto his shelf. This man was just who Fionn was hoping to see. 

“Diarmuid Ua Duibhne!” he exclaimed, slamming a hand down onto the marble bar top and watching Diarmuid’s face intently, “my old friend, I see that business is going well!” 

As expected, Diarmuid was not exactly pleased to see Fionn. “Hello Fionn,” he managed through gritted teeth. Placing a cocktail glass down on the table (though it was more like a controlled slam than a gentle place) he offered up a metaphorical olive branch. “What to drink today. Your usual?” 

Fionn bristled but maintained his outward composure; he would be dead in the water if he couldn’t get Diarmuid onboard. “Diarmuid, I’m sure you know I’m not here for a drink. I need you for business,” 

At the mention of business, Diarmuid cringed. Instead of acknowledging his former boss he just continued white-knuckling a bottle of fine cognac. Well, at least he remembered what Fionn drank, a good start considering. Without asking again, Diarmuid poured the cognac into a mixer and added lemon juice before reaching down to procure some orange liqueur as well, shaking them all together with ice before straining it all into the cocktail glass and pushing it towards Fionn unceremoniously. The older man took the glass wordlessly. 

“Alright, I’ll bite. What’s your deal Fionn,” Diarmuid leaned forward over the bar, letting his elbows rest on the marble and wringing his bar rag between his hands, “first you walk into my juice joint demanding to see me, and now you’re dragging me back into your business? This had better be good,” There was a certain frivolity to Diarmuid’s voice that made Fionn boil. He had to remind himself that here in Manhattan in this speakeasy he wasn’t the big man on campus. He could expect absolutely nothing out of Diarmuid, but this was his last shot.

“So I’m sure you know about the Chulainns,” Fionn started, sipping his sidecar and waving nonchalantly with one hand. Diarmuid nodded, so Fionn continued. “They’re encroaching even further into the East Bronx. None of my men have been able to get the message across well enough to keep them out, and that Lancer guy keeps charming all our contacts so nobody is willing to bust them. I was hoping that you might come out of retirement for a few months, put on the ritz for my newest customers, maybe get rid of a few saps who get in our way…” 

“No,” The dark haired man’s answer was firm as he poured himself two fingers of whiskey. Sighing, he rubbed at his temples before taking a drink.

Fionn was a bit outraged and was doing a poorer and poorer job hiding it by the minute. “You know, you’re lucky I let you go after you ran off to California with my wife,” he spat, making Diarmuid laugh loudly. 

“Don’t you mean when your unhappy wife dragged _me_ out west after finding out that you got that other dame knocked up? Where I kept her safe until you managed to track her down and take her home? Really Fionn, sometimes I worry that your memory isn’t what it used to be,” If smoke could really come out of someone’s ears, Fionn would have looked like a steamer engine racing down the track at top speed. Almost as if he noticed, Diarmuid backed off. “Sorry, sorry, I get it, but my answer is still no. When I left The Fianna, I left for good. My charming and maiming days are long behind me. I’m happy here and I don’t want to risk losing this place, no offense to you.”

Despite his desperation and rage, Fionn really couldn’t argue with Diarmuid’s side of things. He had gotten out of the life with a clean sever, letting him live his own life without fear of retribution from his old life coming to get him in his sleep. If Diarmuid came back to push the Chulainn’s out of the East Bronx there was no guarantee he would ever be able to leave The Fianna again, not to mention that even if he did the Chulainn brother’s would be at his tail for the rest of his life so he might as well kiss life in New York goodbye. Fionn was determined, though, he wouldn’t give up so easily. 

As the lights seemed to dim Fionn heaved a great sigh and swallowed down the last of his drink, “Diarmuid, you know I’m a man of my word. I promised to let you go with no strings attached after the whole Grainne incident and to never harm you or your family, so unless you choose to come back to The Fianna of your own volition I can’t force you too. That being said, we need you Diarmuid. I’m worried that if we don’t bring you back were not gonna make it to next year. Do you really want the Chulainn’s to get control of the Bronx? Because I’m pretty damn sure they won't honor our little agreement,” 

Diarmuid thought for a moment, worrying a piece of hair never managed to stay slicked back to his head between two of his fingers until he turned his gaze to the room, enraptured. “That,” he hushed, pointing towards the band that had gathered at the edge of the stage, “is why I can’t come back,” As Fionn turned he saw the most alluring Jane that had ever graced Manhattan with her presence preparing to sing.

——

You were all dolled up in your best; a minty green dress with pearls sewn in as embellishments and a drop waist, new skin toned stockings without a single run in them, satin gloves, and little golden and black starburst heels. Diarmuid had splurged on you a few months before, ordering the outfit along with a few others all the way from France right as the new spring styles became available. Though they weren’t new, a gorgeous and long string of pearls was wrapped around your neck, seemingly dripping down your front with it’s overwhelming grandeur. 

As the band struck up, you started to sing out to the audience, “ _I_ _wanna be loved by you, just you, nobody else but you. I wanna be loved by you alone, boop-boop-bee-doo. I wanna be kissed by you, just you, nobody else but you, I wanna be kissed by you alone,”_ The song was a standard and a favorite, especially among the fly boys and bell bottoms, but you only sang out for one man who was currently working behind the bar. Your glamour and heavenly voice made you a great asset to the business, and though you’d never admit it a part of you liked to show off to everybody that came in to eat. 

“ _I couldn’t aspire to anything higher, than to feel the desire to make you my own,”_ the words were second nature to you now. Swaying softly, you enraptured everyone. There was a little joke between you and Diarmuid where he would say that whenever you sang you could hear a pin drop out in the audience, and it never failed to make your cheeks heat up at his praise. 

It had always been your dream to be a singer, though as a girl you never would have imagined something as wonderful as jazz existing. You had been working as a showgirl at a sleazy little gin joint when Diarmuid found you and offered you a job at his club with better pay (not that you needed it) and no demeaning costumes. What he saw in you that day you would never know, but ever since you had been at his side, first as a business partner and soon after as a lover. 

Now you were living the dream, running your own little speakeasy together while also maintaining the flower shop that sat above it and living together in the most darling little manor all the way out on Long Island Sound. You even had a little dog you had rescued of the streets and named Aisling. Life was good. 

As the song started to finish up, you ended strong. _“I_ _wanna be loved by you, just you, nobody else but you! I wanna be loved by you. bee-deedly-deedly-deedly-dum! Boop-boop-bee-doo!”_ As usual, the crowd went wild. The rest of your set continued uneventfully, and yet you couldn’t help but notice the man deep in conversation at the bar with Diarmuid the whole time.

——

“What a doll,” Fionn mumbled, finishing up his second drink as Diarmuid appreciated you from afar. “You know, if you like her so damn much that she’s keeping you here, why don’t you take her back to The Fianna? I’m sure after a little… coercion on the part of your coworkers she’ll fall right into your arms,” He went to laugh, but found Diarmuid was holding a small knife out rather close to his throat.

Now, knowing Diarmuid meant he knew that he wouldn’t win in a knife fight or a gun fight. That was exactly why he was so important. No gang or mob in all of New York, even The Round, had someone quite as good at getting someone dead as quickly and cleanly as Fionn did when Diarmuid still worked for him. He was a wizard with a knife, able to dispatch anybody in seconds before they could even reach for their gun. To say that Fionn was absolutely screwed if Diarmuid decided to attack him, especially in the killer’s own bar, would be a massive understatement.

Thankfully, it was just a threat. “Never,” Diarmuid spat, “and I mean never talk about my baby like that again, or else,” What he would do to the blond man didn’t need to be spoken out loud; they both knew what he was capable of. Before Fionn could respond, a small voice made itself known behind him.

“Diarmuid, darling, could you make me a Manhattan,” you smiled sweetly as you hopped up onto one of the high backed chairs, “with the extra cherry like I like it,” With a bat of your eyelashes Diarmuid was already well on his way, flipping his knife closed and pulling out a clean mixing glass. He then stirred in rye whiskey, vermouth, and bitters with ice before mixing and straining it all into a special crystal cocktail glass with 2 cherries and an orange twist. 

“Ah,” Fionn chuckled, squinting at Diarmuid, “so you’re her sugar daddy,” Though he intended the snide comment for Diarmuid’s ears, you responded first with a laugh as you took a sip of your drink. 

“No, Fionn Mac Cumhaill,” his eyes widened at the sound of his name in your mouth, “I think you’ll find that Diarmuid and I are doing very well for ourselves thanks to _my_ family,” As the glass was drained you picked a plump, red cherry out of the dregs and popped it into your mouth, focusing once again on Diarmuid who was smiling a strange, knowing smile that Fionn didn’t like one bit. “Medb was backstage but she’ll be out in a second with Alter and Gilgamesh. Dealings went well thanks to your quick thinking,” 

Fionn felt all the blood drain from his face. Medb and Alter? Here in a bar run by a former member of the Fianna? Making deals with Gilgamesh? It all seemed unbelievable. Despite the fact that Manhattan was neutral territory where things were unlikely to get messy, there were still a hundred other speakeasies and venues around that weren’t run by former members of rival gangs. As if on cue, the small woman and her hulking partner approached, sitting next to you and ordering their drinks. 

“A gin fizz for me and a dry martini for my baby grand,” Medb chirped, settling herself down on Alter’s lap as the larger, stoic man looked gratefully towards Diarmuid who nodded and started their order. “Gilgamesh decided to just leave out the back. Apparently his father just got into town this week and he’s having a business dinner to talk about imports. Everything went well, though, and he’ll bring your next order around whenever you give him a call.” 

“You dirty rat,” Fionn muttered under his breath, grateful that they hadn’t noticed him yet, but still sat shocked as Diarmuid made their drinks as if they were regulars. They couldn’t be regulars, right? Even from a few seats away the sight of Alter’s massive, built form was enough to make him want to jump out of his seat and run. That would be too suspicious,though, he had to wait for the right moment to slip away.

You smiled as Medb got her drink and turned to you. “Aren’t you a looker!” She giggled, lifting up your pearls to the soft glow of the electric lights to assess their shimmer, “I swear honey, you sing better and better every time I hear you! Even Gilgamesh was impressed. He asked if you wanted to go to the party he’s having at his place with Ozy next week but I told him you might be too busy, you should give him a call,” 

You were grateful for Medb’s effortless chit-chat, because all you could think about was how Fionn was trembling on your other side. “Oh don’t flatter me! I’m just doing my best. I’ll give Gil a call tomorrow after we drive down to the park in Jersey.” Alter gave you one of his rare, small smiles as you mentioned tomorrow’s plans. It was getting rarer and rarer for you to see each other outside of business, so a little outing was bound to lighten things up. 

Diarmuid was gloating as he made you another manhattan and walked closer to Fionn, wiping out a glass. “I’m not sure if you knew,” he whispered as to avoid drawing Medb and Alter’s attention away from you, “but there’s a fifth Chulainn sibling,” He said it right as Fionn realized his folly and whispered it in horror,

“A sister,”

He was out of his chair like a horse at the races then, fleeing up the stairs and through the flower shop above at a breakneck speed. Diarmuid and his charm and his betrayal! Running through the rain, Fionn felt for the first time in his life that someone had actually won against him. 

Meanwhile at the bar Alter sighed, biting the olive off his toothpick and fiddling with the tiny wooden skewer. “Finally. If he hadn’t left on his own and stopped blabbing soon they would’ve had to take him away in a meat wagon,” he huffed. 

“Oh you should’ve seen Diarmuid when he said something about your baby sister,” Medb said, playing with strands of her husband’s hair as you enjoyed your second drink, “I thought we were gonna have to end up doing clean up out here,” 

Scoffing, Diarmuid collected the empty glasses and set about cleaning them, “as if I’m that messy. He’s just lucky Alter wasn’t out here to strangle him with his bare hands,” All of you laughed softly then, enjoying the casual conversation despite the grim context. 

“What did he want anyway?” You asked.

“You’re not gonna believe me,” Diarmuid started, grabbing a cherry out of your glass and earning a scowl from you, “but he was trying to get me to join back up with The Fianna. Little did he know that my kitten has claws,”

The conversation carried on for a bit longer, but before long it was time for goodbyes. Giving out hugs, you wished your brother and sister-in-law well as they exited the venue. By Summer, it was as if The Fianna never existed in the first place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! If you’ve seen the first chapter of Sacred, you’ll know that my WiFi went out yesterday at literally the worst time. But I’m glad this chapter is up now because it’s a concept I really loved. Speaking of which...  
> the prologue and the first chapter of Sacred, my Diarmuid/reader Twilight AU is up! It would be awesome if you guys could go show it some love and give it a try, because I’m super excited for that project as well.  
> Anyways, today’s song is I Wanna Be Loved By You by Marilyn Monroe. She’s from the 50’s/60’s, not the 20’s but she sings this song in a movie that takes place in the 20’s so it cancels out lol. Now on to my next thing.  
> Tomorrow is gonna be a double chapter upload because I missed yesterday and because we’ll reach the halfway point of this fix collection!!! I never expected to get as much love and support as I did on this project. I started it because my sister was super tired of hearing me talk about all my fic ideas because she doesn’t enjoy the Fate franchise and to challenge myself as a writer, so to see all your lovely comments has warmed my heart in a way you cannot imagine. But I’ll save all the sappy stuff for tomorrow.  
> As always I love to see your comments, so feel free to leave me one if you liked this chapter! Thanks again for reading and supporting me!


	16. Here It Is, Our Final Night Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Holy Grail war comes to a close, you and Diarmuid spend your last night together preparing for the final battle.

Diarmuid was patching up the gash in your side when the sun finally started to set, throwing brilliant reds and purples across the horizon. The dying light seemed to bleed into the calm river below that drifted through the city as it had for hundreds of years. The sight almost made it easier to deal with the reality of the coming day. Though your servant was doing his very best to be gentle with your wound, it still stung profusely as he wiped antiseptic against the raw flesh. As you winced, he steadied you.

“Sorry, I’m trying to stay still,” you muttered. It was so easy to forget when the pain wasn’t grounding you, easy to pretend you were just another tourist enjoying the view of the Seine, but every time your mind drifted away into a new dreamland the agony of your wound would drag you back to reality. You weren’t any other girl, you were a master in the never ending death game that was the Holy Grail War.

Paris had served as the strongest lay line, drawing the power required for a grail war long before it should have happened. The mages all supposed it was the grail’s newly cleansed form that necessitated yet another premature war, but none of the specifics mattered to you. What mattered was staying alive, and you had done a pretty good job of that, making it to the last 3 masters remaining. Diarmuid, your ever faithful lancer, had been integral to your survival, though, you definitely couldn’t take all the credit. You had been the one to make the stupid mistake, as usual.

It had been down to you, the saber, the berserker, and the assassin left up until earlier in the day when you had been all but ambushed by the assassin and their master. You had only just learned their true name, Henri Sanson, and still knew little about their weaknesses when they attacked. Maybe it was stupidity and maybe it was desperation, but when you saw Sanson swing for Diarmuid you threw yourself in the way of the blade. The more you thought about it, the stupider you felt but in no way did you regret it. It had been just enough to throw Sanson off and gave Diarmuid the opening he needed to destroy the opposing servant once and for all, but it put you at a permanent disadvantage for the battles to come. You could still hear the enemy master’s wails when you closed your eyes. 

“Master,” Diarmuid said, shocking you out of your own mind yet again, “I think you’re patched up as best as you can be,” Despite the fact that he didn’t need to be close to your body anymore, his touch still lingered on your exposed side. Everything about him seemed so warm. You didn’t want your time with him to end, not in the way that it inevitably would.

The budding night was filled with a cool breeze that fely pleasant against your sweat-soaked brow. Despite the chill, though, you found that every time you looked at Diarmuid a heat would spread through you, starting near your chest and blooming outwards towards your stomach and cheeks until it overtook every inch of your skin. Something as simple as his rough fingertips brushing against the skin above your fresh bandage sent fireworks through your body. Never before had you learned to care so deeply about another person, but in the end he was destined to disappear into the breeze within the next 24 hours. 

“Where did the time go?” You asked softly, mostly speaking to yourself. You were so young with a whole life waiting ahead of you, why did you have to fall into this freakish competition? It must be fate, you supposed. Fate that brought you to the summoning circle that night so many months ago, fate that pulled Diarmuid from the throne to meet you, fate that allowed you this chance to say goodbye in the city of lights and love. 

It took a moment, but Diarmuid soon responded to your rhetorical question. “That is the one question I doubt anyone can answer, Master. I have relived my life many times within the throne and yet the endless nature of time evades me even still.” His voice was smooth in the air, drifting off into the distance as you pulled down your shirt and sat up, wrapping your arms around your knees in an attempt to stay warm. 

You knew this was it, the end of the line, and yet the panic hadn’t quite set in yet. To say you were at peace would be a lie, you were anything but, but you had accepted the inevitability of your demise. Still, there was something you wanted to do before it was all over. “Diar,” you looked over to see him looking at you, golden eyes filled with a strange longing you didn’t fully understand, “what’s your wish for the grail? I kind of forgot to ask you,” 

“My wish… that is a difficult question,” Diarmuid gazed out over the cityscape, watching through windows as the people below lived their lives carefree, “I suppose if you asked me when you summoned me I would say I didn’t have a wish for the grail. All I have ever wanted is to be a loyal knight for as long as I can remember and yet, now, I think there is something I want more,” 

Intrigued, you leaned towards him. “What’s that?”

“A new chance at life,” Your eyes widened as he answered. Did he truly regret his past that much? “There is much on this earth that I never saw because of the circumstances of where and when I was born. I want to experience life in this new world even if it means I will be removed from the throne of heroes and disappear from history. I want to see the world, fall in love, and remember every single moment of it till the moment I become stardust and nothingness once again, as all natural things should do eventually,”

“Diar,” you said, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, “that’s really beautiful. Thank you for telling me all that,” He smiled then and nudged you lightly with his shoulder, a silent urging for you to cheer up. What prevented more tears from falling wasn’t that playful nudge, though, but the sight of Diarmuid’s smiling face. He had been so stoic when you first summoned him, endlessly reserved and duty driven. Only after spending months with you and learning about the new world first hand had he opened up and showed you the brilliant, funny, passionate man he was underneath all his armor. That was what you fell in love with; the human beneath it all. 

“And you, Master?” He asked as he looked into your eyes almost knowingly, “what is your wish?” 

Despite the fact that the final day of the Grail War was almost upon you, you hadn’t given much thought to what you would actually wish for if you won. It was hard to come up with something meaningful, especially after the gorgeous dream Diarmuid had painted for you, but suddenly it came to you. There was one thing above all other things you wanted. “I would wish for more time,”

Diarmuid cocked his head to the side slightly, “could you elaborate?” 

“Sure,” you said. There was something so novel about watching Paris go to sleep while preparing for death. Truly, there was no time better than the present to dump all of your deepest longing and insecurities on the historical figure you had developed a massive crush on. Besides, once he was unsummoned, win or lose, he wouldn’t remember any of this. “I’m still young. There are things that I should experience in life that I probably never will. If I could have anything I would want more time so that I could actually get all of the experiences I might miss. It’s kinda dumb, cause if I even get to make the wish it means I won and didn’t die, but right now that’s all I can think of,”

Despite the shame and inadequacy you felt Diarmuid smiled sadly at you. “It’s not  _ dumb  _ to want to experience a full life, Master,” he reassured you, wrapping an arm around you and sending more of those special fireworks off inside you with his soft handling of you, “in fact, I find that wish to be incredibly genuine. It just speaks about how pure your heart is,” The praise made your face heat up once again. In the moment, illuminated by the streetlights along the Seine and the yellow glow of the windows lining the massive and ancient buildings on all sides, you blurted out something incredibly embarrassing. 

“I’ve never even had a boyfriend,” you shouted, all your frustration and pent up feelings exploding out. The moment you said it you regretted it. Who the hell even says something like that? What made it even more embarrassing was Diarmuid’s allure. He had been with many women in his life and you could only imagine he had continued to indulge in his baser instincts when he was summoned previously, so why would he ever feel anything for someone as inexperienced as you? 

Surprisingly, though, Diarmuid didn’t retract his arm from it’s place on your shoulders. Instead he pointed off into the distance. “In a minute they’ll turn the lights on at the Eiffel Tower. Though you might lose many experiences, this is one I can’t allow you to throw away,” Not a word was said about your outburst and his face didn’t give away any obvious discomfort or upset, thankfully. 

Silent and captivated, you watched as, suddenly, the Eiffel Tower was engulfed in the glow of thousands of little lights. Somehow, you had always assumed that the romantic appeal of the Eiffel Tower at night had been glorified by the authors who wanted to spice up their books and create the perfect location for a romantic scene, but now as you gazed upon it on what very well might be the last day of your short life you knew exactly what they all meant. As you turned to thank Diarmuid, he suddenly caught you in a kiss, pulling your body close to his in the night that somehow seemed so much brighter now.

It took a moment, but you managed to fall into a good rhythm as Diarmuid’s lips moved against yours, spreading that delightful heat through your body yet again. His body was firm and unyielding against yours but that was what you needed; stability. Ironically, in that moment, Diarmuid seemed like the last thing that would disappear. After a while you began to tremble, hands finding purchase in Diarmuid’s hair. Your first kiss couldn’t have been better. 

When you pulled away to breathe you stayed close, letting your forehead rest against his as your noses brushed up against each other. “Tell me if this isn’t what you want, please” Diarmuid whispered, his golden eyes looking into yours with a hidden longing, “because if this  _ is  _ what you want, I want it too. I want to give you everything you’ve never been able to have. I want to spend my newfound eternity entwined inextricably with you, but if I can’t have that let me have tonight,” 

It was hard to find the right words. Diarmuid was always so eloquent, his mannerisms and vernacular a carry over from times long past, but you knew then that no matter what you said he would never judge you. Not here, not tonight. “I want this,” you whispered, laying down on the hard concrete of the roof though you didn’t notice it at all, “I don’t want to be anywhere without you anymore. Ever since I summoned you all I’ve wanted is to keep you forever, no matter how selfish that is,” 

Diarmuid silenced you with another kiss, softer this time with less teeth. When he pulled away he smiled down at you, stroking your cheek with his thumb, “Master, be selfish. Enjoy me. Sear each and every moment of tonight into your mind so that no matter what happens tomorrow, you never have to be without me again,” 

Tomorrow didn’t matter anymore. Death and destruction awaited on the horizon but you closed your eyes to it, instead choosing to memorize the feeling of Diarmuid’s body against your own. All that mattered was that moment. As the atom bomb fell behind your eyes you welcomed it with open arms. As long as Diarmuid was with you, you could face the end of the world with a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is one of two parts that go together as a halfway-through special so all my usual notes will be on the next chapter. This fic’s song is As The World Caves In by Matt Maltese.


	17. There Was A Time I Could Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have had dreams all your life about a dark haired man fighting by your side, but they’ve always felt more like memories than dreams though you know that they couldn’t be. When you summon a new servant at Chaldea, everything becomes clear. 
> 
> Sequel to ‘Here It Is, Our Final Night Alive’, can be read as a stand-alone

It was an early morning when you picked up the large bag of quartz you had saved and headed into the summoning room. You hadn’t planned on departing quite so early, but a nightmare had stolen away the last remains of your sleep making it almost impossible to lay back down after what you’d seen. It wasn’t as though you were unused to them, in fact they were only getting more frequent after you started dreaming about the deaths and pasts of all your servants, but more that this one in particular was extremely bothersome. 

You had been somewhere in modern day and a holy grail was there just beyond your reach. You turned to start running towards it, but as soon as you started to run a sword found its way through your stomach, some phantom assailant disappearing as soon as they landed their fatal blow on you. Writhing in pain you called out, and the raven haired man that had haunted your dreams for years appeared, wrapping you up in his arms and crying as you bled out.

Everything about the man was striking and memorable, from his green leather armor to the lean and chiseled shape of his body, but what you always remembered most were his eyes. An unnatural golden yellow, they gazed down at you with such love and devotion that it was impossible to forget them. That man had been visiting your dreams for your whole life, always serving as a steadfast companion to guide and support you, and yet you had never seen him outside of your dreams. 

When you finally came to Chaldea and started summoning servants you realized exactly what had been happening in your dreams for all those years. Somehow, you were seeing fragments of old grail wars, probably across many different universes seeing as there had only been 5 in the timeline you existed on. In every single one the master summoned the same servant, the lancer with the golden eyes and dark hair, and every time they succumbed to death shortly before victory after spending time with the servant. You simply wrote it off as a coincidence. The dreams must have been what led you to Chaldea you surmised; why else would you dream of Holy Grail wars and end up the final defender of humanity collecting grails?

Still, the dreams bothered you. Something about them was a little too real somehow, as if you had inherited the memories of the poor person who had passed away. So, on that misty morning you dragged yourself out of bed and into the summoning room. Somehow you had a feeling that you would get something good. An hour later with a pile of craft essences up to your knees, you weren’t trusting that good feeling much. 

“Come on,” you groaned, pulling the last three quartz from your bag and setting them in the summoning circle. “Hey, if someone is out there and they really want to come to Chaldea, this would be a really great time for it!” You called out into the emptiness childishly. As expected, there was no response so you huffed and pressed the big red button at the edge of the circle, praying for anything but another damn craft essence. 

A blinding flash consumed the room before a silver card was deposited from the aether into the center of the circle. “At least it’s not another CE,” you muttered to yourself as you approached, kneeling to pick up the card. When you flipped it over you saw the symbol of a silver lancer but then, almost as soon as you laid eyes on the symbol, the card seemed to emit a black goo. Your first reaction was to drop the card and get as far away as possible, and the last thing you saw before the card exploded in a burst of sparks was that somehow it had turned gold. 

Opening your eyes and coughing, you waved away the smoke that had filled the room. How the hell had your summon went so horribly wrong and more importantly what sort of beast had you released upon Chaldea? This is what you got for summoning without Mash around to supervise you thought reticently. Standing in the smoke was a tall man gripping two spears in his hands. As more of the smoke cleared he stepped forward. “Holy shit,” you whispered as you finally laid eyes on him.

Despite your shock he bored holes through your skull with his golden eyes, even through the heavy clouds that seemed to consume the room. “I am Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. Don’t expect much from me in this class, Master; as an avenger you will find I am focused on only one thing, and that thing isn’t fighting.” His voice was harsh, but filled you like a breath of fresh air. You  _ knew _ that voice from more than just dreams, you felt deep in your bones that you had heard that voice thousands of times before that moment.

Wiping your face, you approached the man, getting a better look as the fans in the room started to work. “Diarmuid? That’s your name?” You asked. Curiosity was written on every single one of your features but the Avenger offered no answers. Instead, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. Probing, you continued, “I thought you were supposed to be a lancer, not an avenger, but maybe you’re just not the same guy I thought you were,”

His face contorted then into one of deep seated yet expected pain. In the newfound stillness of the room, he seemed to deflate as he reached out to you, running a disconcerting hand through your hair and offering up a pathetic laugh. “I suppose you would remember me as a lancer, my little Master, though usually you don’t remember me at all,” A sourness tinged his tone at the end of his comment. “You are the thing that has plagued me for what feels like infinite lives now, Master.” 

If you were confused before, there was no word for the level of cluelessness you were feeling when you heard Diarmuid’s words. The room was fully clear of smoke then, and you were able to get a complete look at the avenger in the light as he wallowed in his endless despair. His armor seemed more worn than it had been before, covered in small nicks and faded, most likely from endlessly scrubbing blood off its surface. The hair and body were mostly the same, but the biggest difference was his eyes. What once was a sea of pure gold now was host to a ring of bright, angry red, almost bleeding out into his eye from its place along the outside of his iris. 

“I don’t quite understand,” you admitted sheepishly. It only made you feel more strange when Diarmuid seemed to gaze deeply into your eyes, almost as if he expected you to suddenly recognize him if he looked hard enough. You didn’t though, and he offered up a tired sigh, walking to your side and sitting against the wall, gesturing for you to follow suit. It wasn’t as if you had much choice besides to give in. Diarmuid had answers you needed, and you felt a strange bond drawing you towards the servant that you couldn’t quite explain.

“In another timeline a couple years from now you summoned me as your lancer in a traditional grail war,” he began, rubbing at his eyes roughly with his knuckles, “we were down to the last 3 masters when you revealed to me that you felt for me. I felt the same way, so before the final battle we slept together. Against all the odds, we won and had our wishes granted by the grail,” 

Chuckling softly, Diarmuid almost looked like the man you remembered from your dreams. Carefree and adoring, you had heard his laugher and watched him smile so many times since your childhood. Deep down, you couldn’t blame this other version of yourself for falling for the man because admittedly you had done the same. Even though you had only seen him in dreams you felt yourself yearning to hold your mystery protector, to kiss him, as you got older to love him in even more physical ways. Pushing all that aside, you leaned closer to him, “what happened next?”

“I wished to be able to live a new life,” Diarmuid muttered, “to have a chance to see the world and enjoy all it’s modern wonders before finally being at peace, even if it meant disappearing from the throne. You had been wounded pretty badly in the process and you wished for more time on earth, as much time as it took for you to experience all the things you hadn’t had time for and wanted to get to see. There was one terrible little detail though,” he paused, looking you straight in the eye, “we both wished to be together, despite the fact that our dreams were opposites. It turned into a living nightmare,” 

You froze. “No,” horror laced your voice as you gripped Diarmuid’s hand, some long forgotten reflex that shocked the both of you equally. Though you went to release his hand, he slowly wrapped his fingers around yours so you simply loosened up your grip and enjoyed the feeling of his calloused hand in yours. It felt  _ right _ . 

Diarmuid gave your hand a quick squeeze, softening further. “Somehow, I got my time on earth by being summoned by you hundreds if not thousands of times across time and space, and as a treat I get to remember every single summoning. As long as a version of you exists I am drawn to them. You got your wish by existing in every situation possible, so you get to have every experience possible to be had across time and infinite worlds. Every time we fall in love, then you’re ripped away and I’m sent to fall in love with the next you in an endless cycle,”

“Are there any happy endings?” You interrupted, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

Diarmuid thought for a moment, then cracked an unexpected smile. “I suppose there are happy endings here and there where you die of old age or win the war with a whole life ahead of you, but no matter what your fate is I can never share it with you,” As he finished, his frown returned. “My most recent summoning was what changed my class. I was summoned to someone else, someone from a respectable family of mages who differed in values from me in many ways, but you were visiting the city where the Grail War took place. For the first time in so many summonings I had a chance at freedom, all I needed to do was pretend to be like any other servant, stay loyal, win the war for my master, and use my wish to become mortal,”

Placing a soft hand on his shoulder, you braced yourself, “I’m guessing you didn’t win,”

“No,” he snapped, more at himself than you but still enough to make you jump a bit, “I was forced to kill myself during a duel after a long series of unfortunate occurences that made my master distrustful of me. I cursed the grail and all of them to hell, and the next thing I knew my class had changed just like my wish,” 

“What is your wish?” Though you knew it was sensitive, the curiosity was just eating at you far too much not to ask. Somehow the question seemed nostalgic too, as if you had asked it before.

Diarmuid became more serious than you had ever seen him in that moment, removing his hand from yours and instead clenching both of his hands into tight, crushing fists. “I wish to destroy the grail for twisting my wish into this hell of a life I live or finally die trying,” Slowly, you nodded and stood up, offering your hand down to the avenger much to his confusion. “What are you doing?” 

“We’re not gonna be able to destroy the grail just yet, but if we get you some embers and prepare you for the next singularity we’ll be one step closer than we were before,” you explained while a smile crept it’s way onto your face, “plus I doubt you’ll find a grail to destroy sitting on the floor,” 

Diarmuid smiled, a genuine and fragile thing, as he took your hand and stood, walking with you to the door, “I suppose, perhaps, that this won’t be so bad after all. Maybe we’ll get one of those good endings you were talking about,” As you opened the door for him and he started to pass by, his fingers brushed your side lightly from the tight squeeze. Suddenly, you gasped.

“Paris,” Your voice was barely a whisper, stopping Diarmuid in his tracks.

“What did you say?” As he spoke memories came rushing back to your mind. The seine at sunset, the sting of antiseptic, the lights on the Eiffel Tower, Diarmuid’s kiss, his body against yours. It was all too overwhelming to put into words, as though you had just absorbed someone else’s memories into your own mind. 

“I remember Paris,” seemed to be good enough as you swept Diarmuid in for a kiss. He was the shocked one this time, but he caught on quick enough and pushed you up against the nearby wall for stability, hands roving up and down your body in a frantic attempt to feel as much of you as possible. He felt you as if you would disappear beneath his touch at any moment. Even though there were servants and staff that could walk by at any moment you didn’t care, all that mattered was feeling Diarmuid’s silky hair between your fingers and keeping his lips on yours. 

You had to pull away eventually, and when you did Diarmuid kept you pinned to the wall with his body, breathing in deeply as he set his face in the crook of your neck. It was like a missing piece of the puzzle that was your life had finally been put in its place completing the picture. 

“My little Master,” he hummed against your skin as he kissed your jaw, “We are finally complete again. I’ve come home,” 

“Yeah,” you whispered as you lifted his chin slightly and dove in for another kiss, “stay this time,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! To get it out of the way, this fic’s song is Paranoia in B Major by the Avett Brothers. Though it doesn’t fit the same vibe as the other fic’s song, it kind of fits this avenger Diarmuid’s situation. Specifically the line “with paranoia at my heels; will you love me still when we awake and find that the sanity is gone from my eyes?” Anyways...
> 
> We’ve reached the big halfway mark!!! I never would have gotten this far without all of your awesome comments and support. When I started this project I didn’t have any clue what I was doing and I wrote a whole bunch of prompts I didn’t really love to make sure I had something to write every day but you guys have inspired me so much and given me such awesome food for thought that I now have more than enough awesome stuff to write for this collection and future fix collections too. 
> 
> Boring story time lol. I’ve never been the most socially adept person and I never had the greatest home life, so I would read a lot as a kid. I love to write but I have a hard time putting my work out there and interacting with people. I’ve been pushing myself since quarantine started to interact with people and post my work again (I haven’t since I was a kid on Wattpad) and you all have been so kind and given me such a boost in self confidence. I cannot thank all of you enough for your kindness and willingness to give my weird ideas a chance, it has made a massive impact on me.
> 
> Finally, an announcement! Now that we’re past halfway done with this collection you might be asking “ren_lover, what’s coming next???” Well, dear readers, besides continuing Sacred for as long as it takes, my next fix collection will be... drumroll please... Servants and Seasons! It will be a series done in 3 month chunks (3 for each season) with a fic featuring the reader/a servant in some sort of seasonal related situation uploaded every other day! I already have the first few servants/stories lined up for fall but i will 100% take requests if you want to leave them in the comments. Also, yes, a whole lot of them will be Diarmuid cause he’s my favorite to write lol, I just want to make sure I don’t get burned out when it comes to ideas. 
> 
> Thank you so much once again for reading and supporting me! If you enjoyed this chapter please leave me a comment letting me know! Have a good day/night, I love you all <3


	18. I Won’t Say I’m In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diarmuid is interrogated by the other members of the Backspear Boys after sharing an “entirely platonic” lunch with you for the first time. Though he may be denying his feelings, they’re not convinced at all.

“Thank you so much for coming with me today,” you said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and gazing sheepishly at Diarmuid. The sidewalk was small enough that when you walked at his side your shoulders brushed against him, making your cheeks fill with heat. Even in the sharp heat of late August, Diarmuid didn’t seem to break a sweat at all, still retaining his almost inhuman glamour. “I know it’s kind of cliche, but I wouldn’t have rather gone with anyone else,”

Diarmuid chuckled lightly, “it was no problem. I’ve never had a Japanese style fried chicken sandwich before, so it was worth it for the experience alone,” Before you could even realize what he was doing, he lifted his hand and patted your head gently, sending your heart into wild palpitations. God, why did he have to be so cute? Seeing his charming smile aimed at you was enough to frazzle you for an entire day, and now he had moved on to head pats, which could prove to be fatal if you didn’t take a few deep breaths and get your heart rate under control. 

The conversation died for a while leaving the two of you in a peaceable silence as you walked. Only when you saw a familiar garage in the distance did you start talking again, hoping to make the moments last as long as possible. “So, you’re in a band with some guys from school?” You asked.

“Oh, yeah” Diarmuid seemed almost ashamed as he answered, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off into the distance as cars passed by. “I don’t know if you’d know any of them though, they’re all sort of… unique,” 

“That doesn’t matter!” You defended him with every breath, “bands are really cool, even when they don’t have the most attractive guy at school in them,” Shit, you blew it. Diarmuid looked at you, curious, before laughing it off and continuing to walk. Somehow you had gotten really lucky there. Not wanting an awkward silence, you picked the conversation back up quickly. “So what do you do?” 

Diarmuid paused for a moment. It was easy to get caught up in his face when he looked the way he did then, his eyes filled with hidden determination and his lip worried between his teeth. “If you mean what I do, I play the bass and do background vocals when we need more sound. As a band, though, we play a lot of covers. Right now Cu has been really into some 80’s bands, so that’s what we’re playing for our next gig,”

Your eyes lit up while you started walking again, only feet away from the ending destination. “You guys play gigs? That’s awesome. Why didn’t you tell me before, I would’ve come to support you guys,” Diarmuid laughed as he tapped on the aluminum door. 

“I dunno, it just never came up I guess,” Suddenly, the massive garage door at your side slid open with a crash, making you jump about a foot into the air. Inside the garage were 4 guys about your age, one of which you recognized as your neighbor, all smiling and greeting Diarmuid without even realizing you were there. Diarmuid, though, didn’t forget about you. “Thanks for lunch,” he said brightly, “next time you want to meet up just let me know,” Before you even really had a chance to respond he disappeared into the dark garage, the garage door slamming behind him and leaving you out in the hot sun.

“Bye Diar,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, as you started the long walk back home, kicking yourself mentally the whole time for not just telling him how you felt. 

———

Heaving in a breath, Diarmuid’s face flushed red as all of his bandmates looked at him knowingly and held in laughter. “Don’t you dare,” he huffed, looking directly at Fionn before walking to the back of the garage to retrieve his bass from it’s case, “this is my garage, don’t forget I can kick you out at any time,” It was an empty threat. Despite his protests, his bandmates didn’t cease their silent teasing. “Alright,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and turning back to face the peanut gallery, “Because I know we won’t get any work done until you all roast me, so you have 10 minutes,” 

Cu was the first to break the silence. “So, that’s the one you’ve been talking about for the past 6 months?” His grin made the questions seem less innocent than they were. Begrudgingly, Diarmuid nodded, causing Karna and Hektor to start chuckling indiscreetly. Cu continued, putting on a serious face. “So when she finally  _ does  _ go out with you, you not only don’t invite her to our next gig or ask her to come in and meet us, but you also slam the door in her face without even planning a second date? Dude, you’re  _ fucked _ ,” 

Diarmuid realized then, about 3 minutes too late, that he had, in fact, messed up big time. “First of all it wasn’t a date!” He huffed, leaning up against the cement wall, “and secondly, I know I didn’t do the best job but that’s because I’m not actually that interested in her. She’s cute and funny and stuff, but I dunno if I could say I  _ love _ her,” No one was convinced, not even Diarmuid himself. 

“So you stole my date to homecoming and then broke her heart just so you could obsess over this girl for half a year before suddenly deciding you don’t actually like her?” Fionn’s snide comment nearly sent Diarmuid into a rage, but he controlled himself. Fighting with him would get both of them nowhere. 

In a move that was entirely unexpected, Diarmuid walked over to the stool behind Karna’s drum set and raked his fingers through his raven hair instead of urging the band to get back to work. Somewhere, deep down within him, even he wasn’t believing his own rationale, but that part wasn’t large enough to keep him from fighting his feelings. “We all know my taste in women is terrible. I told myself that after the Grainne fiasco I would stop dating so nobody else got hurt, especially me,”

The rest of the band gathered around then, forming a small circle around Diarmuid and pelting him with advice. “First of all, she looked stellar and you’ve said she’s nice so you can’t fool me with your whole ‘boo-hoo I picked a bad one’ act, it was true with Grainne but it isn’t true now,” Cu said, crossing his arms across his chest as he looked down at Diarmuid, “plus, you’re a terrible liar buddy, even to yourself. You wouldn’t have been talking about her for this long if it was just a tiny crush like you say,”

“Plus,” Karna butted in, “I bet you 10 dollars that you’re thinking about her and what a great time you had today,” Well, Diarmuid couldn’t refute that. 

“I won’t give in that easily,” he huffed, reaching into his pocket and handing Karna a 10 dollar bill as he spoke, “and I don’t even know if she likes me. It just seems stupid to put myself out on the line when I’m probably just going to end up hurting myself and losing her friendship in one fell swoop,”

Hektor, the oldest and wisest of them all, swept in then, “what did you guys go do today?”

Diarmuid was quick to answer. “Well there was this new Japanese fusion restaurant that just opened up last week that she had been wanting to try since she heard about it. We got fried chicken sandwiches, and they were so good that we ended up ordering 2 more and eating them in the park. I wanted to stick around but we had practice so I had her walk here with me,” Though he wasn’t aware of it himself, Diarmuid had drifted off into a sort of dreamy state halfway through his talk, gazing mindlessly at the wall as he droned on in a singsong tone. That itself was enough proof for the other band members that Diarmuid was more far gone than he let on. 

“That all sounds pretty romantic to me,” Cu ribbed, snapping Diarmuid out of his trance. He refused to believe it. 

“No,” Diarmuid almost sounded disappointed as he picked at his nails and avoided the shit-eating grins from his friends, “I’m sure if she liked me she would’ve asked me on a real date. Besides, I don’t wanna be creepy and just  _ assume _ she didn’t want the outing to be platonic, because it was entirely non-romantic in every way, totally,” Suddenly, a bit of the truth spilled out, “even though when the waiter said that we looked like a couple both of us were too nervous to correct them, and when we were eating at the park she kept leaning against me when she started getting tired, which was probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” 

Silence followed his sudden admission, letting all of the feelings really sink in. Diarmuid thought of your eyes, your smile, the kindness you had always shown him from the moment you met him. His heart wouldn’t stop breathing as his cheeks flushed a brilliant red yet again. Yes, he had to admit, even if it was just within his own mind, that he liked you a lot, more than was rational. “You know,” Karna said, “she’s my neighbor. We don’t talk, but I know for a fact that she has to walk all the way across town to get home from here. If she didn’t like you I doubt she would’ve walked you here from the park,”

“Really?” Diarmuid’s voice was a soft hush. 

“Yeah, no doubt,” Cu responded. 

“And maybe she’s just as scared as you are, so she doesn’t feel confident to ask you out,” Hektor added, “I know if I were a girl who was falling for the hottest guy at school that hadn’t taken a girlfriend in months, I’d be way too terrified to ask outright,” 

It took less than 5 seconds for Fionn to ruin the moment. “If you don’t want to date her then I call dibs,” he chuckled, “think of it as repayment for making me go to homecoming alone,” Diarmuid was seriously considering beating him to a pulp when out of the blue a soft knock came from the large aluminum door. The whole band froze, silently hoping that the police weren’t coming to issue some sort of noise complaint, but no massive FBI style raid ever came. Instead, a small voice came from the other side. 

———

“Hello?” You called out, shame written all over your face. You were grateful the door wasn’t open. Maybe, if you were lucky, they would be inside the actual house so you wouldn’t have to embarrass yourself any further and could just restart the long walk home. “I’m really sorry for the disturbance but Diarmuid forgot his jacket with me after we went out to lunch. I’m here to give it back,” 

It hurt you to part with the soft, green varsity jacket that had been hanging off your shoulders for most of the afternoon. It would have been easy to keep it, but you knew Diarmuid would miss it eventually and if you still had it when he came looking it wouldn’t make you look like a very good person. Still, it was incredibly comfortable and smelled like Diarmuid’s cologne, something you had grown fond of since meeting him. 

To your eternal embarrassment, the garage door was opened with a loud crash (thankfully you expected it this time and kept yourself from jumping at the sound) and Diarmuid emerged, looking red as a tomato. “Hey,” he said, stumbling over the word as he gave you a little wave. 

“Hey,” Sadly, you offered up the jacket, letting it hang limp from your outstretched hand, “You left your jacket with me accidentally, so I’m here to make a special delivery!” You covered up any trace of upset in your voice with your joke, but deep down your heart was aching. Why couldn’t he see how much you cared about him? Why weren’t you good enough?

Instead of taking the jacket from you he held up a hand, shaking his head. “Actually,” his face seemed to grow redder, as if that was even possible, “It wasn’t an accident. I was hoping you’d keep it for a while, if that’s alright with you,” 

Your heart stopped momentarily before restarting, as if your body had to reboot entirely to process what you’d just been asked. Diarmuid O’Dyna, the star pole-vaulter on the track team and the most handsome boy you had ever met, was asking you to keep his varsity jacket? “Do you know what that means?” You blurted out before you even thought, though in the process you pulled the jacket back to your chest.

“Yeah, I know what it means,” his laughter was like music, though it played to a slower beat than the pounding of your heart that was getting increasingly impossible to ignore. “If that’s not alright with you I get it, I know we haven’t talked about this before but I was hoping-“

“Yes!” You cut him off, putting the jacket on and zipping it up as if that could bolster your confidence, “I’d love to keep your jacket. Thanks, Diar,” Inside the garage you could see the rest of the band getting ready to play so you prepared to make your exit, still revelling in the way Diarmuid looked at you when he asked you to wear his colors. “I know you’re busy, but I’ll call you once I get home if that’s okay!”

As you went to turn away Diarmuid caught your wrist in his hand, holding you back. “Actually, I was hoping you’d stay to watch us rehearse so I could drive you home. Do you want to meet the band? I promise they’ll be on their best behavior,” There was no way you could say no to Diarmuid’s puppy dog eyes so you nodded, following him into the garage and preparing for an evening of new surprises. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Just in case it’s not clear, everybody in this fic is a normal human. Anyways I hope you enjoyed today’s fic! I know it’s a little silly, but my brain wasn’t feeling angst today. The song, by the way, was I Won’t Say I’m In Love from Hercules. Tomorrow, though, prepare for major feels (angsty and fluffy) because I’m doing a part two to one of my favorite chapters I’ve written so far, but which chapter that is will remain a surprise! All I’ll say is it seemed to be a fan favorite too. As always I love comments, so don’t be afraid to leave me a little note (or a paragraph I love long comments too)!!! Thanks again for supporting me and my work <3


	19. Slipping Through My Fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iollan’s 6th birthday is the first time you are able to celebrate it as a family since Diarmuid’s resummoning. Though it’s a day for celebrating growth, you can’t help but worry for the future. 
> 
> Sequel to It’s Been A Long, Long Time, can be read as a stand alone

It had been about 8 months since Diarmuid’s summoning on that moonlit night, and since then life had fallen into a sort of normal rhythm. Mash would still come for dinner 3 times a week, you still painted in your little studio, Iollan still enjoyed going for walks to visit the sheep that lived about a mile away in a neighbors pasture; the only thing that really changed much was that there was a new addition to the family. When Mash came for dinner Diarmuid would be at the head of the table, proud to show off whatever new recipe he found online and when you painted it wasn’t a rare occurrence for Diarmuid to come up behind you on your tall stool and wrap his arms around you, just enjoying your touch. Even little Iollan’s walks gained a member who was just as excited to pet the sheep as he was. 

That wasn’t to say that life was perfect. Though Iollan accepted Diarmuid as his father almost instantly, he was still old enough to have questions that you couldn’t answer. It was difficult to lie, to fill your child with false stories of Diarmuid’s work in another country, but there was no way you could tell him the truth, especially when you yourself still couldn’t come to terms with it. 

Though your nightmares were far less frequent than they had once been, that didn’t mean they were gone. The memories were a constant scar inside of you that reflected the ones you had gained in your time as a master of Chaldea. Recently, though, the lack of memories had scared you more. Sometimes, as you painted, you found that you couldn’t remember places you had been, or that you couldn’t remember who had been with you on certain missions. You knew that someday you would look within yourself and not be able to remember Gilgamesh’s laugh or the way Roman took his coffee or all the absurd lengths you went to to avoid Kiyohime on her bad days. It was all a part of life; nothing could last forever.

It was around you every day. In the next few years, the sheep from the pasture would have to be culled and Iollan would have to rekindle friendship with the next batch. The ivy on your cottage walls hadn’t taken root when you first moved into the freshly built home, and yet now it had crept its way up the house on all sides. Even Mash, the steadfast in your life since you had first entered Chaldea and lost everything you had ever known, was now so much older and wiser than she had been before, deciding to grow out her hair and begin a career as a baker. Nothing stayed the same. There was only one exception to the rule: Diarmuid. 

In all the years you had known him, he hadn’t aged a day. As times passed his hair would remain eternally raven, never gaining a single strand of silver. His body would never fail him with his eyesight remaining sharp and his back staying straight as a rod no matter how many years he spent straining it. Everything about him was eternal, a perfect specimen of humanity frozen in time for as long as you provided him with mana. Even if you did cut off his mana supply and unsummon him, which you would never dream of doing, he wouldn’t ever grow old and weary, instead simply disappearing into the aether and retaining his eternal youth until the next master summoned him. That scared you. 

It came to a head on Iollan’s 6th birthday. It was a Sunday, so you woke up early in the hopes of biking to the farmer’s market to get some fresh food for a special dinner. Diarmuid, thankfully, was still asleep as you dressed in a soft cotton sundress, his face illuminated in the golden light of dawn. You never understood how he slept so peacefully and looked so handsome while he did. Still, you didn’t let him distract you from your goal. 

Silently you crept from the bedroom to the bathroom to brush your teeth and get your hair into order. That was when you noticed it. Shining in the brightness of the fluorescent light of your bathroom there was a single silver hair nestled amongst all your others. It took a moment for you to process that, inspecting it from all angles to be entirely sure that it was, in fact, grey and not just reflecting the light oddly. To your horror it was simply grey. It all hit you like a train. 

You knew that you were still relatively young, with most of your life ahead of you, but that single silver hair was a sign that with every day, you truly were growing older. Internally, you still saw yourself as the 16 year old girl who had walked into Chaldea in the hopes of a paying job, though on the outside you were very different now. Plus, it wasn’t just you growing older, especially on that specific day. 

Your little Iollan was already 6 years old. It felt like just yesterday when he had been brought into the world, kicking and screaming as Mash set him in your arms. Where had the time gone? Since when had he started to talk and walk and act so grown up? Just the other day he had declared that he was old enough to eat with normal sized cutlery at dinner, the fork looking massive in his little hand. Soon, sooner than you would’ve liked to admit, he wouldn’t be little anymore. As time passed and the two of you grew, was it possible that you would outgrow Diarmuid?

You banished the thought from your head. It wasn’t a day where you should be thinking about sad what-ifs, instead it was best to focus your energies on Iollan and making sure he had the best day possible. He would only turn 6 once, and besides, this birthday was made even more special because it was the first he would share with his father. Peeking into your son’s room as you exited the bathroom, you couldn’t stop yourself from pausing and smiling as you took in his sleeping form, so close to Diarmuid’s. 

Iollan had been talking about what he wanted for weeks now, insisting that he absolutely needed several new toys that you were happy to order for him in advance. Along with the action figures and plastic food items you had bought a few new outfits for him to wear to school when it started up again and a couple books. The concept of buying such strange, frivolous gifts for Iollan had been hard for Diarmuid to grasp at first (though birthdays were celebrated at Chaldea, there were no modern children there to demand a transformer) but when he did finally understand he had insisted on getting Iollan a few gifts without your help. Part of you shuddered to think what he would find appropriate to give a 6 year old boy for his birthday. In the end, though, you trusted that whatever choice he made was a good one. 

The morning air was cool when you stepped out into the yard and grabbed your bike from it’s place against your cobblestone fence, enjoying the respite from the endless summer heat it provided. Sometimes when you were walking or biking the long rural roads around your home it felt like you were in a dream even after experiencing the endless list of strange and improbable things that you had in your relatively short life. As you set off on your short journey the surroundings made you feel just a little younger than you had before. 

The farmer’s market was, thankfully, pretty empty when you arrived. As a regular you knew exactly which stalls you needed to stop at to get what you came for with a pretty hefty discount. It had taken a lot of time for you to earn the status as a local, but funnily enough Diarmuid had fit right in the second he entered the small city center for the first time. It was just in his blood you supposed. The little paper bags of fruit, vegetables, and other essentials were placed carefully in the wire basket at the front of your bike when you finished, and in a flash you were riding back down towards home, though there was one stop you had to make first.

Mash’s little home was only a little ways down the road from yours, looking extremely similar to your cottage in many ways yet taking on it’s own unique personality. Parking your bike near the entrance, you picked up the bag containing fresh blueberries and honey before walking to the door. 

Mash saw you before you even knocked and rushed to let you in. She looked the same as she always had and yet so different, already dressed in a breezy blouse, jeans, and an apron that was eternally covered in flour despite how many times she washed it. “Senpai!” She greeted you, a holdover from your Chaldea days that never failed to make you smile, “thanks for stopping by!”

You nodded slightly, handing her the bags and stepping inside. Her house was laid out so that her kitchen was the first thing you saw when you walked in, settled directly across from the front door though in technicality her kitchen, dining room, and living room were all one big room surrounding the stairs that led up to her study and bedroom. “Iollan is excited to see you tonight, and I promise he’s not just saying that because you’re bringing cake,” you teased. Something about being around Mash seemed to revitalize you and make you feel young again. You appreciated that about her. 

“As long as he’s happy when I walk in the door, that's all that matters,” Mash’s voice was light as she set the bags down on her kitchen counter. She leaned against it then, turning towards you with a grin on her face. On the couch sat a suitcase half packed, filled with clothes and a few odds and ends she’d need in her trip. It was funny, you’d grown so accustomed to her presence that you forgot entirely about the vacation she had planned for the coming weeks. 

“Excited to visit Artoria and the knights,” you asked, gesturing towards the couch. Mash had planned her first vacation ever around visiting the graves and historical sites related to the Knights of the Round Table. Since Diarmuid’s return she had found herself feeling homesick in a strange way, especially since she owed her survival for many years to Galahad when he cohabitated with her inside her body. She was excited to feel close to them again, even if the only way she could do that was to visit the places they had originally lived all those years ago. You couldn’t be more happy for her, though you knew you wouldn’t be capable of doing the same, especially after you had taken the trip to Medb’s grave a few years back and been too upset to give her your respects. 

“Oh!” Mash exclaimed, having forgotten all about the small mess, “Yeah, I’m really excited! It’s the first time I’ll really be all on my own, though, so that’s a little scary,” Sometimes you were sure that Mash struggled to see herself as an adult the same way you did. Before Ireland, Chaldea was all she had ever known and only now, years later, was she reaping the benefits of being an adult in the real world. Not that you blamed her, you waited years to reunite with your husband so it was only fair to give her time to work herself out too. 

“Well, as always I’ll only be a phone call away and I wouldn’t hesitate to use a ferry to get to you if I needed to,” you both shared a little laugh, just like old times, but then life got in the way. “I should probably get going,” you said, leaning in for a hug, “but I’ll see you tonight, alright?”

As she hugged you tight, Mash nodded. “Of course senpai, tell Iollan I can’t wait to bring him his cake,” You departed then, walking into the yard and re-mounting your bike as you got ready for the short ride home. The sun was starting to get higher in the sky then, making you hope that maybe, with luck, there wouldn’t be any rain. The ride home was easy, mostly downhill, and what you saw when you got close was enough to make the entire morning worth it. 

In the garden Iollan was running around fighting imaginary enemies with a stick and enjoying the weather, still in his pajamas. You could already smell breakfast from outside, the scent of frying eggs wafting out of the open kitchen window upon your approach. The moment your son saw you he stopped his games and ran to greet you. On his face he wore a smile like no other. As you parked your bike and dismounted you prepared to catch the boy as he threw himself at you. 

“Mommy!” He shouted as he careened into your waiting arms, “where did you go?” 

You chuckled as you lifted him up into your arms, kissing him on his hair, “well I was out at the market getting stuff for your special birthday dinner tonight, big man,” He truly was big, so much bigger than the infant you remembered. He grew every day, getting harder for you to carry in your arms by the year. There would come a time, as with any child, that you couldn’t lift him up to hold him anymore and when he wouldn’t want you to. The thought sent a painful pang into your chest. Suddenly, though, you heard Diarmuid clear his voice from the open doorway into the garden. 

“Iollan, come inside and eat your breakfast before it gets cold,” he called as you released the now squirming child back into the world. While Iollan ran towards the door excitedly you retrieved the bags from your bike, only to turn and find Diarmuid behind you, holding out his arms and taking your burden from you. “Good morning, my dearest,” he said softly, giving you a quick kiss.

“Good morning to _you_ ,” you countered, “you made Iollan breakfast and aren’t letting me carry the groceries inside? I think you should win some sort of award,” In the distance you could hear the waves crashing against the coast, filling you with nostalgia.

Diarmuid let out a low chuckle then, walking towards the kitchen with you in tow, “I think you’ll be taking that award away relatively soon when he opens his presents later,” 

You groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t get our 6 year old kid something deadly,” 

“I can’t make any promises,” As you entered the kitchen you were surrounded by the familiar scent of bacon and eggs, and when you saw that there was a whole casserole dish filled with french toast loaf baking in the oven you decided that you’d forgive Diarmuid even if he had bought your child an implement of destruction. Sitting down at the table as a family your heart was full, the anxieties you felt earlier melting away as Diarmuid straightened his apron and poured you a cup of coffee.

The day passed quicker than you thought it would. After breakfast you and Diarmuid took Iollan to see the sheep he loved so much before going home to pack a picnic lunch and going on a drive to a little beach down the coast. There was a little playset near the shore, and you watched for most of the afternoon as Diarmuid pretended to be a fearsome monster for Iollan to defeat. When you drove home your son was all done in, taking a nap in his booster seat and allowing for a peaceful ride. 

When you did get home Iollan woke up almost instantly and Diarmuid decided to sit down and read to him a bit, giving you time to put together dinner the same way you had for the past 6 birthdays. It was a bit of a ritual by now and despite the fact that Diarmuid was an excellent chef by all means you weren’t willing to get rid of this particular tradition, even if that meant the food was executed a little worse than it would have been if the servant prepared it. Every year you made beef stew, the ingredients changing slightly with each incarnation, and a loaf of fresh bread to eat it with. It only took a few hours to simmer once you got all the ingredients cut and combined, and with the breadmaker Mash had gifted you last Christmas the bread wasn’t a problem. 

From the other room you could hear Diarmuid’s gentle voice, modifying itself as he switched between characters and making Iollan giggle relentlessly. How you had ever managed to raise that boy without Diarmuid’s help you would never know. The 4 walls around you had seen 6 years worth of memories, becoming slightly faded as time passed. Every shelf and nook held a precious moment you had shared with your family, a family that your biological family would never get to know. You had made peace with the loss of your loved ones a while ago, it was for the best, but that didn’t mean your heart didn’t ache when thinking that your mother would never get the chance to sit at your table and your father would never be able to take his grandson fishing like he always used to talk about. 

Standing in the open doorway as the sun began its descent towards the ground you thought of what your family might have though if they had ever met Diarmuid. You were sure that he would have charmed them, making everyone dinner and promising your father to keep you safe. It would have been the wedding to end all weddings if your mother had her way. Another life bloomed before your eyes, a life where Iollan had more than just the little world you built up around him, a life where he could know the whole truth. The only thing that dragged you from your thoughts was the delighted laughter coming from your son’s room. 

That was enough to make you smile. As the stew bubbled and the bread baked you were content to know that at least for now your son was happy, and so were you. When Diarmuid finally emerged it was almost 7, and Mash was probably well on her way to the house. “I have to warn you about my first gift,” he said, tone hushed as Iollan waited by the door, “I know it’s a big deal, but I promise I’ll do my part to make it work,” 

You had no time for confusion, because before you could question your husband Mash was walking through the door carrying not a cake, but a small greyhound puppy that yipped excitedly as she set it down in front of your son. “Puppy!” He shouted as it scampered around at his feet, “is it for me?” Well, you had definitely been outdone this time… 

“Surprise,” Diarmuid muttered before walking over to his son and kneeling, petting the little greyhound as it wagged its tail. “My father always told me that a growing boy needs a loyal dog at his side. It takes a lot of responsibility, but I’m sure that with my help you’ll be ready,” You were sure that Iollan had never been as excited as he seemed then, nodding to his father and petting the dog gently. As the boys continued their little shenanigans Mash returned, now holding your son’s birthday cake.

“Sorry for not telling you senpai,” she giggled as you walked into the kitchen, putting the cake in the fridge and sitting down at the table, “Diarmuid was insistent that it should be a surprise. He was really nervous that he wasn’t doing the whole birthday thing right and that Iollan wouldn’t like his gift, but I assured him he was doing great,” 

“Don’t worry, I’ve been wanting a dog for a while anyway,” you assured her. It wasn’t long before everyone was gathered at the table enjoying dinner and cake. Iollan loved all of his gifts, which included a whole collection of Star Wars and Marvel action figures, a new pretend pizza set, a few new outfits for school, and a pair of child sized spears that Diarmuid swore weren’t sharp enough to hurt anything. Out of everything he enjoyed the dog the most, which was to be expected. In a moment that made you tear up a bit, he named the dog Cú. You knew it was only because it meant hound but that did stop you from excusing yourself and crying in the bathroom for a few minutes before cleaning up and rejoining the party. 

Soon, though, the cake had been sliced and your happy camper was curled up in bed with his new dog while Mash said her goodbyes and headed back home. Before long it was just you and Diarmuid left, sitting together in his oversized armchair and enjoying some well earned rest after a day of endless movement. “So I assume I’ve been forgiven for my surprise, Master?” Diarmuid asked. It was funny, but you noticed when he was tired he tended to slip back into old habits. 

“I’ve forgiven you, but only because there’s leftover french toast loaf in the fridge with my name on it,” you teased. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to lean up and kiss him, enjoying the way that the loose piece of hair that fell over his face tickled your nose. It was nice to have alone time, something you were finding more and more rare the older and more attached to his father Iollan got. “I hope you know you’re the one who’s gonna be feeding it and taking it out at the crack of dawn though,”

“Oh I’m aware,” Diarmuid laughed, “I already have his food and his feeding bowls waiting in the garage, and a bed is coming in the mail within the next week. Until then I’m sure it will be happy sleeping in Iollan’s bed with him,” 

As the conversation stalled and you cuddled closer to Diarmuid’s warmth, your mind began to wander back to your earlier line of thoughts. Now that there was a dog in the family, there was just another thing that would age and wither away as Diarmuid stayed young. How many dogs would it take for Iollan to realize that the world around him changed but his father never did? How many more years of bliss remained in your cottage by the sea before reality came to knock down your dreams? 

Diarmuid, ever perceptive, hugged you closer. “I knew something was wrong today,” he mused, running fingers through your hair, “you never leave the house without waking me up unless something is bothering you, just like you never used to kiss me goodbye before missions if you were upset,”

“I just found a grey hair today,” you groaned. It all sounded so trivial when you reduced it down to its roots. “It got me thinking about getting older, especially since it was Iollan’s birthday today. I’m not the teenager I used to be Diar, the years are starting to show and I’m worried that someday in the future I’ll suddenly outgrow you. Not to mention the fact that Iollan will notice and want answers as to why his father never ages. I’m just worried because all the time was have together just keeps slipping through my fingers and I don’t want to wake up one day and lose everything,”

“Ah Master,” Diarmuid cooed, lifting you up into his arms as he stood and carrying you to bed, “you will never outgrow me. I wouldn’t care if you stayed the way you are today for eternity or if you were an old and grey elder, you are still my dearest heart no matter what,” As he spoke, he dug out a soft t-shirt for you to wear to sleep from your drawer, setting it next to you and then searching for his own pair of pajamas. “As for Iollan, he will be my son no matter what path he chooses in life. Eventually, when he’s old enough to be a man, I will take him aside and tell him everything, the whole story of us. From there I will let him choose his own destiny, though knowing my boy I’m sure he will still love us the same as he always has,”

“Thank you for all that,” you whispered as you tossed your sundress into the nearby hamper, “I know it was silly, I was just really stressed today and I needed to hear you say things are gonna be ok,” 

Diarmuid slid into bed next to you as you finished talking, pulling you into his embrace despite the heat as your ceiling fan chugged along, making a soft whirring sound. “None of your worries are silly,” he kissed you softly on the back of the neck and gave you a little squeeze as he whispered into the darkness, “every bit of you is perfect just as you are. Fat or skinny, tall or short, sad or happy; I will always love you.” 

In the moments before you drifted off into a comfortable sleep, you couldn’t help but notice that the time didn’t seem to be slipping by quite as fast anymore. So, in your dreamy haze, you squeezed Diarmuid tightly and enjoyed it while you could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I’ve been in love with the little world I created in ‘It’s Been A Long, Long Time’ so because everybody seemed to like it I decided to write this little add on. In my mind Diarmuid is 100% the best dad and cooks well enough that he could probably be on Masterchef or something. It was nice to write something really soft and non-dramatic for a change, and though it was a challenge nobody cried in this chapter lol. Also, I was realizing that in this AU, if the master was 16 when she entered Chaldea and it took about 7 years for everything to fix itself with Chaldea (seeing as the we probably have 2 years till the lostbelts are finished and we just hit the 5 year anniversary of FGO) she would be about 31 when this fic took place. Perfect timing for a breakdown regarding getting older!!!
> 
> This fic’s song is Slipping Through My Fingers by ABBA. If you couldn’t tell already by my song choices in the past I was a bit of a theater kid in the past. When I was in my old highschool’s production of Mamma Mia, I remembered that song making me feel really emotional about the concept of parenthood, so I used it here to inspire me when I was writing the reader’s feelings about the passage of time. Anyways, I love comments so don’t be afraid to leave me one if you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks again for supporting my work!


	20. Past The Point Of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been 3 months since you were taken hostage in a singularity by Cu Alter. Though you’ve been sure he would change his ways eventually, you’re finally starting to realize if you don’t escape soon, you never will. When Diarmuid shows up in an attempt to save you, you’re forced to make a decision; will you save your life or his?
> 
> Warning for Kidnapper Cu Alter, no gore/violence but he is possessive and creepy

The table in Cu Alter’s castle was long and thin, holding only two chairs at the head and foot of the table with what seemed like a mile stretched between them. For what felt like an eternity you had taken 3 meals a day at that table in silence. You found that no matter what you said or did, there were no new words left to say, no topics left to breach with the mad king. As time slipped through the cracks of your mind, so did your hope. How had it all come to this?

Across the table, Alter himself was looking at you intently. He hadn’t touched his food and neither had you. It was the same as it had been since you arrived, a flavorless porridge of some sort supplemented with chunks of overcooked, oversalted meat. At first it had seemed inedible but now it was looking more and more appealing by the day. Well, if the time you spent awake was actually equivalent to a day. Beside your meal was a glass and a pitcher of water. Knowing it would probably be your last chance to drink for the day, you poured a glass and drank it down greedily. 

For some reason, this rubbed Cu the wrong way. As he bristled in his seat the spines on his tail and armor seemed to grow larger, making him look all the more threatening. “Why aren’t you eating?” He growled. There was a darkness in his red eyes, glistening like bloody rubies in the dim candlelight of the pitch black. “Do you dislike what I’ve given you?”

“No, Cu, I’m fine,” You lied through your teeth like it was the easiest thing in the world, “I’m just not feeling well,” Lying was essential in this dark world he had built for you. You knew he would never hurt you, if he wanted to there was no point in bringing you here and wasting a grail, and yet something inside of you knew to tread lightly when it came to his feelings. 

There was a grain of truth within your words. For a while you had felt a tightness growing within your chest, overpowering the need to eat or sleep, but it had nothing to do with illness and everything to do with instinct. Somehow, something within you was realizing that if you never attempted to escape, there was no way you would ever get out of this palace from hell. You had given up on Chaldea sending a rescue team after using all 3 of your command spells in an attempt to contact them. It was up to you now, but deep down you wondered if you would ever be brave enough to make a break for it.

In a surprising moment of gentility, Cu rose from his seat and his spikes retracted slightly as he approached you. He lifted the bowl of food from its place at the table and looked down at you with a strange softness in his eyes. “Would you prefer something easier? There’s plenty of beef stock in the kitchen,” he asked. While he idled his tail slid side to side against the dark stone flooring in a strange imitation of a wag.

“That would be wonderful,” you said in return, watching him disappear into the looming hallway that led to the kitchen and scullery. Even as he kept you captive you couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the beast of a man, especially when he made efforts to make life comfortable for you. All he wanted was to not be lonely anymore, to have a queen befitting of the throne at his side, but you knew you couldn’t ever be that for him even if he thought you were perfect. Your heart was far away held firmly in the hands of your lancer.

Ah, Diarmuid. The memories of him kept you moving through this endless chasm of a palace, though you were starting to see it for what it was; a gilded cage. You could still see his bright smile in your mind’s eye. Phantom sensations of his gentle touch would haunt you as you laid down to sleep each night. In dreams, he would be by your side again in the warmth of the sun but when you woke you would find yourself in the cold hell you had lived in for so long. 

As a child you had always believed that the underworld would be a place filled with fire and brimstone, flames licking away at the souls of the damned for eternity. Now, though, you realized that this palace was the closest thing to hell you could see while still alive. Everything was black and red, with no windows out to the real world to be seen. Even though you hadn’t been able to see the outdoors when you lived in Chaldea, at least there were windows to let in the light and you had opportunities to spend time in the sun during singularities. In Cu Alter’s castle, though, you didn’t even get that. Worse still there was no heating. The only bits of warmth would come from the candles you lit so you could see and even they offered very little. The ice had settled deep in your veins in a way that made you afraid that you might never truly experience warmth again.

Cu Alter returned shortly, setting a small bowl down in front of you before returning to his seat at the head of the table and beginning to eat his bowl of tasteless mush. It was shocking to see the steam rising off the light brown both. The joy that rose up at the thought of the warm liquid frightened you deeply, but what scared you more was how grateful you felt to your captor for providing it to you. Finally you took your first sip, groaning at the warmth that spread from your throat to the rest of your body as you drank. 

This pleased Cu to no end. His tail thumped on the floor as he paused his eating and gazed as you almost fondly. “You like it?” He asked. 

You were quick to respond, “Yes, it’s very good. Thank you again, Cu, I couldn’t keep going without you,” In truth the broth was incredibly bland but it tasted wonderful in comparison to the meal you had eaten repeatedly. It’s biggest allure wasn’t even its taste. What you really relished was the warmth that it provided. Maybe if you asked nicely, things like that could become more normal? You shuddered internally at the thought of playing any nicer than you already had been. Even you had limits. 

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence. Only your loud gulps echoed against the walls as you greedily enjoyed the entire bowl of broth and tried to drink as much water as you possibly could in the hopes of preventing any thirst before bed. Alter seemed to be in a good mood, so when you were both finished he collected the empty plates up and shot you a sharp-toothed grin. “You can head off to bed now Master,” he muttered, “I don’t want your illness to get any worse, so rest early tonight,” Then he was gone, disappearing to clean the dishes and do whatever he did when you weren’t around. 

It was only a short walk up the stairs to your room. Though it was cavernous and dark it served as the only sanctuary you had in Cu Alter’s domain. The room was filled with eternally-lit candelabras that lit up a small vanity with a stool, a dresser, and your large plush bed. There were no windows, but there was a large empty area of wall that you were sure had been one in the original layout. Every time you looked at it, which was often based on the fact that there was little to do, you wondered what went on outside of the onyx castle you dwelled in. 

To be able to pull off something as massive as building a palace that grew larger by the day and ran with no staff Cu Alter would have needed a grail, that you knew for a fact. What you didn’t know, though, was how large the singularity he had created was. Perhaps it only extended to the palace’s walls, which would account for the lack of windows and your inability to ever go outside, but you doubted that option. Cu Alter was a king by nature so it made much more sense for him to be building a kingdom to rule outside his castle. That option gave you some hope. If you managed to find an exit you might be able to stay sane enough to find where the mad king had hidden his grail, putting an end to the singularity and sending you back home. 

Your after dinner routine was second nature at that point. Usually you would spend a while with Cu in the sitting room playing a card game or reading a book. The selection was abysmal, but it gave you something to do. Then, when that was done you would head back to your room, change into a nightgown and a dressing robe, go to brush your teeth and wash your face, and finally go back to your room where you would read until you felt tired enough to sleep. The night in question, though, you had been put on a fast track.

Slipping out of your daywear and into your nightgown, you were thankful that you chose one of the easier dresses when you got dressed that morning. The wardrobe that Cu Alter had provided may have been fit for a queen but that didn’t mean you enjoyed wearing formalwear every moment of every day. On your nightstand sat  _ The Count of Monte Cristo _ . 

You had only started reading it recently, but it had already become a fast favorite considering your situation. Reading about Edmond, someone you knew well, and his struggles during his imprisonment in the Chateau d’If made you feel closer to home and also scratched some primal yearning for revenge that sat deep within your chest. When (when, not if, you had to remind yourself) you finally escaped and saw the Count again, you would need to apologize for all the times you told him he should start to work past the rage he felt towards the people who got him imprisoned. Perhaps he would be the perfect confidante when it came to the nightmares you were sure would come after your escape.

Laying down in bed you thumbed to your most recent chapter and dove into the world on the page. Dantes was currently learning from Abbe Faria, preparing himself for life outside of the dreary dungeon he had been subjected to unfairly. It was funny how much comfort you took in a story of imprisonment when you yourself were currently a captive. An indeterminable amount of time passed before, suddenly, you heard a crash.

Your first thoughts were of Cu Alter. Had he perhaps dropped a dish while washing it? Or maybe his tail had knocked over an empty vase or small table. It didn’t concern you much, bumps in the night were common when you cohabitated with a twisted man who bore a massive spiked tail and wore heeled and clawed boots as a part of his armor. The moments after the crash were filled with silence, so you put your anxieties away and delved once more into the world that Dumas had written. 

About 3 pages later, there was yet another loud noise. This one wasn’t as much of a crash as it was a thud. It echoed off the stone walls, magnifying itself ten times over before fading away again into an absolute absence of sound. Was Alter throwing a fit? You shuddered to think what he was capable of if he lost his temper. Still, that didn’t seem quite right. Dinner went better than it had for quite a while and there was nothing you could have done from the privacy and silence of your room to warrant that sort of response.

By that point it was impossible for you to return to your book. Instead you stood, rapt with attention, and wrapped your dressing gown closer to yourself. Whether you did so to keep out the cold or to comfort yourself you didn’t know, but fear was starting to seep deeper and deeper into your body, chilling you to the very core of your being. It was only a matter of time before you had to face whatever awaited beyond your door, so you tried to muster up as much courage as you could manage. Almost as a second thought you toed your bare foot into the slippers that rested at the foot of your bed, dreading the walk over icy stone that would await once you left the safety of your sanctuary, bathed in candlelight. 

As you expected, it seemed like a relatively short time before Alter pulled open your door, nearly yanking it off its hinges. “Come with me,” he growled, holding out his hand. You had no choice but to place your smaller one in his. Almost immediately he began to pull you through the hallway, muttering nonsense to himself as he went. 

“Can you tell me what’s happening?” You asked gently. Even as he dragged you through the cage he had built for you, you couldn’t bring yourself to treat him unkindly. Once upon a time you had considered him a good friend as he moped around Chaldea. Was all of that moping just plotting, leading up to this demented kidnapping? You would never be sure. It also went without saying that you’d rather he be in a good mood than a bad one, especially when his armored claws were biting into your wrist hard enough to bruise. 

The mad king’s response was blunt as he led you down a staircase you had never seen before. “I have allowed you to live as you pleased within our castle for too long, or so it seems. Tonight we have received a guest,” Your heart skipped a beat. A guest? Could someone from Chaldea have finally come to your rescue? “So I intend to show him who you truly belong to,” Something about the way he talked about you made all your hair stand on end. Whatever he had planned, it wasn’t good. 

You hit the bottom of the staircase then. The entire room was enveloped in a thick darkness that even your adjusted eyes couldn’t see through, but before long Cu released your wrist and walked in, lighting all of the candelabras with a snap of his fingers. Suddenly, the room was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. Before you was a table, upon which sat two crowns. One was large and the other small, a pair made for a king and queen. On the opposite wall,though, was something that shot a pang of panic through your heart. Strung up in shackles of inch-thick iron was a bloodied Diarmuid, gagged with a dirty rag.

“Well, greet our guest,” Alter taunted, sitting down casually at one end of the table as you rushed to Diarmuid’s side. 

The first thing you did was pull the gag from his mouth and wrap your arms around him, beginning to sob into his shoulder. “You came for me,” you whispered, gripping him tightly. He could do little to comfort you in his restrained position but he tried his best by leaning into your embrace. He had always been warm, that you remembered from your time together in Chaldea, but the heat radiating from his body seemed searing against your icy flesh. The reunion was unfortunately short lived. Almost immediately after you found yourself being yanked away by Alter’s massive claws, kicking and wailing as you went. 

“I actually hoped that you would end up here eventually, fostered son of Aengus,” he laughed darkly as he set you in one of the two chairs at the table. It was easy for him to manhandle you as if you weighed nothing at all. Producing a length of rope from within his armor he bound your hands securely despite your protests. Diarmuid could do little more than struggle and watch in horror as Alter rounded the table once more, his red eyes glinting in the candlelight. “I had heard that you and my Queen shared a bond back in that terrible place called Chaldea. It’s only right that you be the one who witnesses her willingness to stay by my side,” 

“Let her go!” Diarmuid bit back, straining against his shackles, “if you hurt her I swear that you won’t leave this place with your life!”

Cu Alter didn’t feel threatened at all by the man at his mercy. More laughter poured from his gaping maw, bouncing off the dank stone walls and hurting your ears. Turning to you this time, the mad king smiled his shark-like smile and said, “have I ever once harmed you from the moment I brought you here,” 

You didn’t want to answer because you knew he would twist your words. Physically he had provided for you in every way, giving you anything you had need of, and never laid a hand on you in anger. Even that night your bruises were caused by excess strength, not anger, and yet that didn’t excuse all the time you had been suffering in the darkness to fulfill Alter’s king fantasies. Instead of being direct you skirted around the question, eyes still full of tears. “Diarmuid, it’s no use,” you pleaded, “he’s too powerful here,”

“I love her!” Diarmuid said to Cu Alter, but as the words left his lips he looked directly at you. “Please, Alter, let her go. Chaldea had been at a standstill trying to find her for these past 3 months. I know that you want her as your queen, but show some compassion, why can’t you have her there?” 

Alter seemed to think about the offer momentarily before roaring beastially. “You ask me to be compassionate as if anyone there showed me compassion besides our Master! Knight of the Fianna, you push me to my limits. Why can’t you simply be happy for her? She has a place where she will never be in harm's way again. I will protect her and have her rule by my side as I grow this new world from the ground up with the grail’s power. Is that not enough for you?” 

“No, it’s not,” despite his position, Diarmuid still pushed back against Alter’s ideals. Part of you was eternally grateful that he had come for you, but you also realized what danger he was in. It seemed silly, but you would much rather suffer the rest of your days in this hellish castle with only Cu Alter as your companion if it meant Diarmuid was safe. Maybe, deep down, that was why you hadn’t tried to escape in the first place. “Alter, I want to propose a duel,”

You froze in horror as Cu Alter grinned approaching Diarmuid’s almost limp form. “And what might that entail, brave knight?” He said, tail sliding menacingly behind him. 

“We duel with our spears, no holds barred and no outside help in the great hall. If you defeat me you’ll be able to keep our Master here with you, because if you kill me here you’ll be more than strong enough to defeat any servant that tries to bring her back. If I win, I’ll kill you and return our Master to her rightful place,” Diarmuid’s words spewed towards Alter, filled with rage, but Alter seemed entirely unaffected. 

“Before I agree,” the mad king chuckled, “I must pose a question to my queen,” When he turned to you your blood ran even colder than it had before. “Darling,” the way he purred made you want to be sick, “you don’t have to witness this… unpleasantness. You can show this man that you have decided to stay with me, or you can let him pursue his absurd death wish. The choice is yours,” 

Though for the first time in 3 months you had power in your hands, you had never felt more powerless in your entire life. “You can’t ask me to choose that,” you whispered, horror lacing every word. Even in your restraints you were trembling, unable to even try to stop yourself as you witnessed Diarmuid’s struggles. On one hand you could make his suffering go away at the price of your freedom, that didn’t sound terrible on face level but when you looked deeper, things would become much worse than they had already been. On the other hand, though, your freedom wouldn’t be guaranteed. Though you had every faith in Diarmuid’s skill, Cu Alter was not only a berserker, but also was harnessing the power of the holy grail. Both paths ended in suffering. 

“It’s not that difficult,” Cu snorted despite your despair. He was toying with a bit of Diarmuid’s hair, taunting the knight who could do nothing about it. 

“Can’t I have some time?” You pleaded, holding up your bound wrists towards the men, “Please, Cu, just 5 minutes to figure out what I want,”

That, seemingly, was the wrong answer. Something akin to betrayal crossed over the mad king’s face as he walked towards you, but somehow he retained his cool composure. “Five minutes,” through gritted teeth he spat out his answer, using one of his claws to sever your binding before reiterating to a corner of the room, “but then you must choose,”

Immediately you were down at Diarmuid’s side again, not caring about the blood and dirt that was staining your pure white nightclothes. Even while forced to his knees Diarmuid was so composed. Beneath his brave veneer, though, you could see his true fear beginning to show. “Forgive me,” he whispered, breath hot against your neck as you cradled his head in your shoulder.

“For what? You come to rescue me and you’re apologizing?” It was comforting to feel his soft skin against yours again and to kiss his sweaty brow as he strained against his confines. 

“I should have been better prepared, I hadn’t even found an entrance into the castle when he found me and dragged me down here. I’ve finally failed you,” His words shook you, but you remained strong, only letting a few tears escape from your eyes. “You have to let me fight him, even if he has the advantage,” Diarmuid said shakily, “you have to give me the chance to get you out of here,” 

You shook your head no, to his shock and horror. “You know I can’t do that,” there was a strange lightness in your voice that had disappeared in the past weeks, a glibness that you’d missed about yourself, “you can’t expect me to watch you die Diarmuid. Just as you would give your life up for me in battle, I’ll give my freedom away if it means I know you’re alive out there,” 

Diarmuid’s disgust was aimed at the monster in the corner, but it still sent shivers down your spine. “If you stay here with him by choice, let yourself marry him and reign over this bastardization of my country, my life will be over even if I remain alive,” his voice rose to a shout then as he pulled himself as far from you as he could manage, “he’s rigged everything! Either way you choose, he’s the one who wins in the end, you’re just playing into his hand. Why can’t you give me a chance to set you free? Either way, if you stay with him you’ll just be lying and telling him what he wants to hear,”

The ending of his sentiment was aimed directly at Cu Alter, who was bristling angrily in the corner as the minutes ticked by. How long did you have left? The lack of any clocks terrified you further. “I’m so afraid Diar,” you sobbed, leaning back into his touch for what might be the final time, “I’m just so afraid,” Warmth, care, compassion; you might as well have thrown them out the window. You already knew what choice you had to make, you just didn’t know if you’d be strong enough to do it. 

“Please Master,” it was evident from Diarmuid’s tone that he knew as well as you did that your mind was made up, but he persisted anyways, “don’t throw away a chance at life for me. I’m a servant, no matter what happens I’ll always be just a summoning away, but if you spend your life here you will never get a chance at freedom again. Once you die here, you will be gone forever. Please, don’t do that to yourself. Let me try,” 

As you leaned in for your final hug, you gritted your teeth and whispered, “I’m sorry,” Then, you rose, turning to Cu Alter and taking a deep breath. “I’ve made my choice,” you said, reaching for the smaller of the two crowns that rested on the table top, “I will stay here with you and rule by your side, but you have to let him go now Cu,” 

Surprisingly, the mad king didn’t smile at you as he approached, watching you donn the crown he had made. You hoped that it would give him some sort of satisfaction but instead you found that he seemed almost sad, an odd mix of a grimace and a frown adorning his face. To your horror, as he walked towards you he summoned Gae Bolg from its spirit form but he made no move to harm you. Instead he wrapped his arms around you in an awkward hug, squeezing you tight and almost mimicking your earlier hold on Diarmuid. Tears that had run down your face were wiped away on his bare, tattooed chest, before he separated himself from you and turned towards Diarmuid 

While he approached your lover you watched in horror as he pulled back Gae Bolg, ready to strike. No matter how much you wailed and pleaded he made no move to stop or turn back. Diarmuid, on the other hand, had his eyes locked onto yours, refusing to cower away in what may be his last moments. As the spear was thrown and found it’s target, you squeezed your eyes shut. Some things even you couldn’t stomach.

In the darkness behind your eyelids, you heard a metallic clink and a gasp for air. Every little sound was terrifying. You knew that eventually Cu would turn to you and find some way to get vengeance for your uncertainty and yet you couldn’t bear to see him coming. Within the world inside your head you were happy and safe in Diarmuid’s arms again, basking in the warmth of the sun on some green hill just as you had imagined him for all the weeks you had spent in captivity. Then, interrupting your inner peace, another thud sounded, accompanied by the meaty  _ schick _ of Gae Bolg finding purchase in flesh.

Your eyes flew open, and in the candlelit prison you had been resigned to for 3 months you captor was kneeling, his own spear through his chest, as Diarmuid stood shocked across from him. The empathetic part of you wanted to rush to Alter in the hopes of understanding him in his final moments but in truth you already did. He was a man consumed by his nature. He had been warped by the grail and Medb’s wishes, so when he saw the opportunity to have everything he was made for and everything he wanted, he pounced. “Go,” as he spoke, a bloody gurgle in comparison to his fearsome growls, he motioned towards the stairs “both of you. It seems I have a lot to learn about love. Perhaps, when I retire to the throne of heroes, I will learn more,” When Diarmuid took your hand to lead you out of the dungeon you didn’t look back to make sure Cu Alter disappeared. There was no reason to. If his body hadn’t died, his mind had, so he posed no threat. 

Diarmuid was gentle as he led you through winding hallways and up dark staircases. Even after you had chosen his freedom over yours, he loved you just as much as he had before this nightmare started. Somehow he seemed to know which was to go. Perhaps he had remembered the way that Cu brought him in. Before too long, you came upon a large oak door that you had never seen before. Freedom was so close you could taste it. “After you,” your knight whispered, and in a flash you were pushing the door open. 

The feeling of sun on your face was so oddly foreign and yet familiar. Everything was so bright, so open, it made you want to cry but you held in the tears. There would be a time for sadness later. Instead you turned to Diarmuid and wrapped yourself up in his embrace, leaning up to catch his lips in a feverish kiss that you hoped would tell him everything he needed to know. When your lips parted, you couldn’t bear to leave his embrace. “Stay with me,” you whispered, burying your face in his chest.

“My Darling, I am never going to leave you again,” he assured you, voice soft, “from this day onwards you will never be alone like that again, I promise,” 

In the sunlight, wrapped in his arms, you had to believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! I know this is pretty different from all of my other works and takes a darker twist, but that’s because it originally was going to be in my fall fic collection (spooky for Halloween) but I just couldn’t wait to write it. The song it was based on is the finale from Phantom Of The Opera, because Raoul’s harmonies are amazing and make me think of Diarmuid whenever I hear them. As always, I love comments so feel free to leave one! Thanks for supporting my work!
> 
> (PS, Cu Alter is my baby and I love him, but also I needed a ‘sympathetic’ villain and he fit too well not to use him. This is definitley a little OOC and not how I usually would write him)


	21. It’s Only A Paper Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you and Diarmuid are recruited by Scheherazade to play lovers in Shakespeare and Andersen’s newest play you’re initially excited, but as opening night looms over you you start to get a bit anxious. In the darkness of the wings, you and Diarmuid share a sweet moment.

Scheherazade rarely emerged from her room in Chaldea, instead choosing to spend her days enjoying all the modern amenities provided while avoiding the constant fighting out in the halls. You didn’t blame her, honestly, if you could just sit enjoying a hot tub all day instead of managing bickering servants and working to save the world you would, but alas that option was long gone. Her proclivities towards being a homebody were what made the fact that she showed up at your door unannounced so shocking.

You and Diarmuid had been lounging around watching a horror movie when she knocked, sending you both sprawling off the couch in a fit of giggles. When you pulled yourself together enough to answer the door, Scheherazade was standing right outside. In her hands she hald a stack of papers as she awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other, eyes brightening as they met yours. “Master,” she said brightly, “how are you doing?” 

“I’m good Scher,” you chuckled, hearing Diarmuid react to yet another jumpscare behind you, “what brings you here? Not that I don’t like seeing you out and about, it’s just new.” 

She perked up as she responded. “I need your help with something,” rarely did you ever see Scheherezade as happy as she was standing there. The papers in her hands were held out to you then, her explanation continuing. “Some of the children came to my door this morning and asked if I would be willing to put on a sort of play to entertain them, and they asked so nicely that I thought it might be a good idea. I went to Shakespeare and Anderson in the hopes of receiving ideas for what to put on that wouldn’t bring up the unpleasant pasts of any kings here, and instead they offered me a whole new script they had been co-writing,”

You were excited already. Witnessing the first production of a play written by two legends? Where could you sign up! “Where do I fit in?” Your voice was eager as you took the papers, starting to skim through them with intense interest. 

“I was hoping you would like to act in it with your partner,” She said the words as if she already knew you’d be shocked, broaching the subject lightly. 

“Me?” You asked, dumbstruck. “I’m sorry Scher but I’m not that great at acting, I wouldn’t want to disappoint anybody…” You hated the way Scheherazade seemed to deflate at your words. 

Shuffling her heeled feet, she looked shamefully down towards the ground. “I truly apologize for asking,” she said, voice hushed, “This play calls specifically for a pair of young lovers torn apart by fate until the end of the show, where they reunite. I have seen you and your knight and I thought that you would fit perfectly, seeing as everything you said wouldn’t have to be acting, but could instead come from the heart,” 

Though you still had anxieties, Scherezade’s genuine thoughtfulness sold you on the idea. “We’ll do it!” You said proudly, “just tell us when to come to rehearsals and we’ll be there. At your acceptance her face lit up once more and she smiled genuinely, something you were sad to say was rare.

“I’m so glad! I will give you the details as soon as I figure them out, but for now I must go and find my next actors. Thank you, Master,” with that she was off, shuffling down the corridor towards her next target with a certain bounce in her step you had never seen before. As you shut the door with a contented sigh, you felt like you had done something truly good by taking on the new responsibility. 

When you returned to the soft couch and Diarmuid’s waiting arms, the movie had been paused. You didn’t mind much, it hadn’t been very good anyway. It would have been easy to ignore the fact that you had ever been interrupted from your cuddling session if you weren’t holding a massive stack of papers in your hands but you were and it made Diarmuid cock up an eyebrow questioningly. He didn’t need to ask for you to go into your explanation. 

“I signed us up for a play Scheherezade is putting on for the kids,” you spoke into the soft skin of Diarmuid’s neck exposed by his loose white t-shirt (thank god Cu’s style had rubbed off on him and not Gilgamesh’s. For someone with unlimited resources the king of heroes dressed like a member of a bad 90’s boy band sometimes). “Shakespeare and Anderson wrote it, so it has to be good. Plus, we get to be lovers, and I’ve always wanted to feel like we had some grand, fairy-tale meeting instead of me just pulling your spirit origin out of nowhere,” 

The knight chuckled softly as you lifted your face to kiss him softly. “To me every moment with you is as fantastical as it gets,” he said between kisses, “it doesn’t take a play for me to consider you my princess, and I your devoted knight,” your heart melted as you pushed yourself closer to him. How did he always know the right thing to say? Instead of responding with words, you simply kissed him back, eyes fluttering shut as you forgot all about the movie you had watched previously.

The next few weeks were filled with endless preparation for the upcoming play. What had originally been a fun activity for the kids to enjoy had turned into the biggest event of the season, with Chaldea’s auditorium seeing it’s first usage in years as staff and servants alike helped to build sets and prepare for the big night. You and Diarmuid had an easier time falling into acting than you had expected, probably because Scheherazade had been correct; most of the times the things you said didn’t feel like acting at all. 

Soon, though, sooner than you thought possible, opening night was upon you. It did nothing for your nerves to know that the entire population of Chaldea was out in the audience waiting to see the show. What if you messed up? Worse yet, what if you didn’t mess up but everyone hated it anyways? Sitting down next to Marie, who was also starring in the show, you started to put on your stage makeup and adjust your costume. You tried not to think about Gilgamesh, who had announced that he would give you a review as soon as he could after the show so you’d know if it was worthy of his time or not, while you layered on your eyeliner. 

You and Marie made some small talk and gave each other encouragement as you prepared, but soon enough she was off to retrieve her costume, leaving you alone with your mind. “Why did I ever sign up for this,” you groaned, head falling into your hands. Well, you knew exactly why, but somehow Scherezade’s happiness felt a little less important as you were preparing to potentially get laughed off the stage by all your coworkers and servants. 

“There’s no reason to worry, darling,” a familiar voice came from behind you, causing you to turn around to greet him, “you look absolutely ravishing and I am confident that you will perform wonderfully as long as you can remember to be as in love with me as possible for the entire show,” Diarmuid’s sly grin sent a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. 

He stood before you in his full costume, which you hadn’t seen before. The only reaction you could muster was a soft  _ wow  _ as you took in his features. Armed with a rapier and dressed as a French swordsman, his loose, flowing white shirt and high waisted leather pants sent a thrill of excitement through you. He always looked handsome, but this look was truly something else. You reminded yourself to thank DaVinci for her designs after the performance. 

Diarmuid seemed extremely proud of his appearance as he approached you, holding out his arms. “I assume you like it?” He asked, the question entirely rhetorical. 

You nodded quickly, standing and placing a hand on his exposed chest. “I think you’ll have to keep this after the show, it looks really good on you,” Despite your smile, Diarmuid could still sense the unease in your voice. In the hopes of remedying it he swept you up into his arms. His sudden lift left you starry-eyed and breathless in his arms, troubles dissolving as you looked at yourself in a nearby mirror.

To say you both looked like you had been plucked off the animating cells of an early Disney movie would be the most accurate way to describe your radiance. The skirt of your gown, a pale blue thing with layers of silk and tulle that made you feel like a princess, hung down towards the ground and barely swept the tile beneath your feet. Diarmuid was externally every bit the strapping young prince you saw within him every day, his costume simply put his pure heart on display in a very obvious way. His hair, usually slicked back, hung loosely about his head in soft waves, though the one unruly bunch of hairs that usually covered his right eye and love spot was still present. 

In the soft yellow light of the dimmed overhead bulbs, your confidence grew once again. “Thanks Diar,” you muttered as he set you back down, still keeping you in his embrace, “I needed that,” 

“I’m here to fulfill all of your needs, Master,” he gave you a bit of a squeeze then, making you giggle in his arms, “but I must make one request of you before you go out there and show everyone just how gorgeous you look in that dress,” For being as honest and true as he was, Diarmuid had a silver tongue, made to allure you and bring you further into his embrace. Whatever his request was you knew you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to say no. “When you step onto that stage, I want you to think about me and how proud I’ll be while watching you instead of thinking about what the audience might think of the performance,”

Ah Diarmuid, always looking out for you. Of course you agreed happily, pulling him down for a quick kiss and humming softly as his mouth met yours. You would never get sick of kissing your knight. No matter how simple or heated the kisses he gave you were, they never failed to send fireworks through your body, buzzing inside you like a live wire. You could only hope that you made him feel the exact same way and from the amount of times he kissed you in a day it wasn’t hard to guess that he did. 

“Everyone had really outdone themselves, huh?” You asked softly, leaning into Diarmuid’s chest and gazing out towards the darkened stage where the set for the first scene was waiting. An eternally blooming garden of lilies and roses waited there as the setting, basking in light coming from a massive paper moon rigged with Christmas lights that hung from the catwalks. “If I don’t focus on the little details it all feels strangely real, like walking through a dream I’ve half forgotten,” 

Diarmuid gazed down at you wistfully, “I agree, Master. Though the world that Shakespeare and Andersen created is not based in reality I feel as though I’ve been transported there whenever we rehearse our scenes. Maybe that’s why they were held in such high regard as authors, because what they’ve created is no easy feat,” You hummed in agreeance. Slowly, you noticed that the audience had started to quiet and Scheherazade was starting her beginning monologue as narrator in front of the curtain.

“I think it’s time to get going,” you chuckled, leaning in for one last kiss before Diarmuid had to remove himself from your arms and begin his journey to the other side of the stage, “I’ll see you on the other side, my sweet prince,” He chuckled and turned around, giving you a final wave. “I shall be waiting eagerly for the moment we are one again, my lady,” He responded. It was clear that he was returning your joke from moments before, but there was a note of honesty on his lips that made your heart flutter just a little bit faster than it had been before. 

When, after a phenomenal performance filled with laughter and tears from both the actors and the audience, it finally came time to kiss Diarmuid once again in the final scene you didn’t have to act at all. You truly were two lovers who, against all odds, had found each other and earned your happy ending. Part of you realized that the authors had drawn that parallel as well, but that was speculation for another time. The feel of Diarmuid’s lips against yours and the sound of the audience’s cheers (and Gilgamesh’s joyful tears, as Enkidu would later confirm) as the curtain finally closed was something you’d never forget for the rest of your life. All the world may have been a stage, but the love you felt for Diarmuid would always be more than make-believe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I know this chapter is short but that’s because life is super crazy and my sleep schedule is waaaay off (I’ve been posting chapters at around 1am-4am in my time zone, so that’s probably going to change soon lol) Anyways, I liked writing this little fluffy interaction because I always wished I would have a backstage romance or someone to encourage me before performances. This fic’s song is It’s Only A Paper Moon by Ella Fitzgerald, which I absolutely love. If you liked this fluffy piece, leave me a comment letting me know your thoughts! Thank you all again for supporting me in this project with your constant love <3
> 
> (PS the next chapter of Sacred is coming I swear! Again life has been insane so it will go up tomorrow and probably be updated on Sundays from now on to allow for a more flexible schedule as I reorganize my life right now, thanks in advance for your understanding!)


	22. Collage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of short moments you shared with Diarmuid based on the 5 senses.

Taste: Beef Stew 

There were a few things about Diarmuid that shocked you when you learned them. One of those things was that he was a phenomenal chef. It wasn’t that you thought he was incapable of being good at home domestic tasks, but he just never expressed any desire towards them. You only found out when it became a necessity. 

The two of you were entrenched deep within Chimera territory during a small rayshift with the goal of gathering materials needed for a couple new recruits. Everything had gone according to plan, just as you expected it to with your loyal knight at your side, but the sun was beginning to made its descent through the sky while you were still 4 talons short. “I guess we should probably camp here for a while before fighting the last few Chimeras,” you offered, getting a curt nod in return from Diarmuid. 

“Of course, Master,” he responded, “are you hungry?”

Now, you weren’t the type to ask anybody for anything; even if people offered you things you needed out of kindness you still felt deeply uncomfortable accepting charity. It was a trait that had been ingrained in you further during your time at Chaldea where you never knew if resources might run out the next day. Based on all that it was only natural for you to shake your head no and push down the hunger that bit at your stomach from the inside. Unfortunately the universe liked to make things difficult for you, so at the same moment you shook your head no your stomach growled loudly, making Diarmuid laugh heartily. 

“It looks like your body is saying otherwise,” he choked out, swallowing down his laughter and regaining his usual knightley composure. If it had been anyone else you would have kept fighting and demanded that you just take a short nap instead but it was Diarmuid you were working with, not just any old servant. Instead you simply resigned yourself to accepting your knight’s gentle care. 

He produced a small metal canister and a spoon from within his bag then, offering them up to you with a smile. The canister itself seemed heavy and substantive with condensation gathering on it’s walls from the warm meal within, and when you opened it a waft of delicious aromas exited with the steam. “It’s just stew,” Diarmuid mumbled, obviously a bit embarrassed, “I made it early this morning knowing we’d be out here for a while. I have bread and butter if you’d like it as well,” 

Initially you declined the bread, simply eating a big spoonful of the broth with a cube of potato and a chunk of beef, but the second the flavors hit your tongue you took him up on his offer, using the big fluffy slices of homemade bread that he cut right there with his utility knife to enjoy every drop of stew inside the container. It tasted like someone had captured love in a bottle and turned it into a seasoning.

You didn’t speak a word until you had finished the entire portion. When you looked up at Diarmuid he seemed extremely proud of himself, enjoying his own smaller container with a slice of bread. “How did you learn to cook like that?” your voice was filled with wonder as Diarmuid shrugged. 

“It’s just a hobby I’ve picked up lately to prepare for when we leave Chaldea. I thought it might be nice to try to open up a restaurant where I serve recipes I remember from my time alive,” he said. Before you could continue questioning him further he reached into the bag and pulled out a small parcel wrapped in wax paper. “Would you like some pumpkin bread for dessert?” 

Of course you accepted and of course it was the most phenomenal pumpkin bread you had ever eaten. From that day on you let Diarmuid cook for you on every occasion possible and requested a loaf of his pumpkin bread almost weekly. The taste would always bring you back to a time of smiles and budding romance.

Touch: Kisses

When Diarmuid first approached you at your breakfast table, wide eyed and shy, you knew you would love him. You might not have felt that way quite yet but that didn’t quite matter. It was clear to your heart that the small feelings you harbored for the honorable knight would only grow the more you got to know him, and that sooner than later you would be head over heels for him. He ate breakfast with you most days after his first approach, always plain porridge and tea with cream but no sugar, and your hunch turned out to be more than correct.

As time passed you started to integrate him into more parts of your life. First you started taking him to farm materials even when he didn’t have a class advantage, citing that you simply enjoyed his company and didn’t want to leave Chaldea without him. Next it was setting up movie nights and gaming nights. They all began with big groups but slowly those nights turned into activities shared only between the two of you. The final straw, or so it seemed, was the most inconspicuous thing of all: inviting him to the library for research. 

It was dead quiet as you looked around for the magecraft texts you needed to work on your healing skills. Diarmuid, though present, was resting lazily in a nearby armchair and enjoying the warmth of the fire that crackled in the large central fireplace. It gave the room a romantic glow, casting wide shadows across the floor. Finally you found the tome you were looking for. Unfortunately it was one shelf too high for you to reach. 

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath. You didn’t want to ask Diarmuid to help you and get dwarfed by his height but under no circumstances were you willing to grab the little ladder that was supposed to be used in these situations. Instead of doing either of the normal things, you just started hopping as quietly as you could, straining your arm as high as it could possibly go in a poor attempt to reach the book unaided. It didn’t work in the slightest (obviously). 

Suddenly, though, you felt a strong warmth press against your back and watched as Diarmuid reached up and grabbed the book easily, handing it to you and smiling. In the firelight all of the sharp edges on his face were enhanced, making him seem somehow even more alluring than he had been before. It took all your restraint to keep from pulling his mouth down to yours in a kiss. “It looked like you needed help,” he explained, backing up and rubbing the back of his neck in a way that made his arms bulge against the soft fabric of his sweater. 

“Thanks,” was the only thing you could offer up in response. In a biological response to the closeness you and Diarmuid had shared your cheeks began to heat up and your hands started to shake. You hoped that the low light disguised your feelings. After a pause instead of talking again Diarmuid rushed foreward and caught your lips in a desperate kiss, making you drop the book onto the floor with a loud thunk. 

The first thing you noticed was that Diarmuid tasted of menthol and sweetness, like a cough drop you would’ve found in a bowl in your grandparent’s kitchen as a child. Then you focussed in on the sensation of his lips on yours. They were much softer than you would have expected; smooth and pleasant but strong in their own right. Beneath your fingers the muscles in his arms flexed, sending a shiver through your body before he finally pulled away breathless. 

“Was that okay?” he asked softly. Instead of using words you pulled him in for another kiss and enjoyed the softness of his sweater against your bare hands a little longer. Though that was the first kiss of many, many kisses, each and every kiss always thrilled you just as much as that first one had.

Scent: Cologne 

Sometimes, when Diarmuid would spend the night in his own room or was otherwise indisposed, you would find yourself unable to sleep. Maybe it was the darkness or the chill of not having someone by your side under the blankets but you would lie awake for hours staring blankly at the ceiling. To say it was a problem would be an understatement. So, in an attempt to fix the problem, you started finding new and exciting ways to knock yourself out. 

Your first attempt involved melatonin supplements before bed. Unfortunately, though, they just made you sleep through your alarm. Next it was exercising right before bed, but that didn’t work either. If anything it made you feel more restless than you’d been when you didn’t waste your precious sleeping hours on physical activity. Warm milk, breathing exercises, turning the heat both up and down, meditation; the more you tried to sleep on your own the harder it got to sleep at all. 

It all came to a head when Diarmuid, dressed in his pig onesie for your monthly all-night sega marathon, noticed that you didn’t seem to be the least bit tired. Usually you were infamous for passing out at about 2 am, head resting gently on his thigh as you snored, but that night you were sharp as a knife, beating him at almost every round of Mario Party, much to his chagrin. “How are you doing this to me,” he chuckled, watching Waluigi pout after his fifth loss in a row. 

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you shot back, reaching over to the bowl of cheese puffs that sat between the two fo you courtesy of Emiya (how that man could recreate cheeto puffs out of the ingredients in Chaldea’s kitchen you would never understand) and grabbing a handful. “It’s kind of funny, when I’m in your room or laying with you I have no problem falling asleep, but lately when you’re gone I’ve been absolutely unable to rest on my own. I mean, eventually I always fall asleep but it takes like hours,” You fully expected Diarmuid to laugh with you but instead he frowned and set down his controller.

“How long has this been going on?” He asked. The concern in his voice surprised you but made your heart warm at the same time. You weren’t used to someone actually caring about how you were doing the way Diarmuid did. When you told him it had been a while but had only gotten bad in the last few weeks, his first reaction was, “what can I do to help?”

Shrugging, you grabbed a few more cheese puffs. “No clue, I’ve tried literally everything. Guess you just have to sleep with me every night for the rest of time,” 

The night went off without another hitch with the two of you transitioning from Mario Party to Super Smash Bros, at which Diarmuid absolutely crushed you. Only when the two of you were starting to doze off did he suddenly sit up. “I have an idea, wait here,” he said, letting you settle yourself into bed as he all but ran out the door of your room. He returned quickly holding a small glass bottle in his hands, offering it to you with bright eyes. 

“What’s this?” You asked, recognizing the strong scent that emanated from the bottle. 

“It’s the cologne that DaVinci made me for Christmas last year,” he spoke gently as he laid down next to you, wrapping his large arms around you after letting you set the bottle on your bedside table, “I have plenty. I thought maybe you could spray it on a pillow or something and see if that helps you sleep without me,” The sentiment alone was enough to make you smile brightly and push your face into Diarmuid’s chest. Sure enough the scent was present; a clean sharp tone, almost like freshly washed linens, mixed with something that smelled like a dark pine forrest. 

That night was peaceful but the real test came a few days later while Diarmuid was gone for training in the simulator with a few other lancers. You laid down and hugged your pillow, freshly spritzed with the cologne, only to find you were out like a light in less than 5 minutes flat. From that moment on you carried a glass bottle of the stuff with you no matter where you went, and you never had trouble getting to sleep alone again.

Sound: Lullaby

Diarmuid had been a good father in his original life, as good of a father as he possibly could have been especially given the situation that his children were born into. Even after hundreds of years he still thought of them fondly and missed them dearly. It was strange, though, that he rarely used his experience when it came to his day to day life in Chaldea. Part of you resented that.

You had been talking to Diarmuid about the possibility of finding a way to have a child for a while, going so far as to reach out to Merlin and DaVinci in the hopes that they could find or create a way to make the fertilization process possible, but deep in your heart you still held some reservations. Diarmuid was your best friend and you trusted him more than anything but he was alive during a time that was very different from the one you were living in. Worries about if he was capable of adapting or if he had gathered any terrible parenting habits during his time with Grainne plagued you and made it difficult for you to keep going foreward with the process. Your worries were valid, so why shouldn’t you wait a bit?

In the hopes of not worrying him you didn’t tell Diarmuid, though. You admitted it was a terrible idea, because how could he possibly prove himself as a parent if you didn’t ask him to and there were no infants just waiting to be cared for in Chaldea, but that didn’t make it any easier to admit to your lover that you held doubts about him. So, instead, you let it all fester within yourself and stopped broaching the topic of parenthood at all. That all changed on a day not unlike any other.

You had been tasked with finding Abigail, completely unaware that the child servants were having their daily nap time. Your feet had carried you all the way to the open door to the playroom, which you found open, when you paused. Coming from within was a soft voice, a bass tone that drifted in a gentle, calming melody and almost put even you to sleep. You peered inside, and were shocked to see Diarmuid sitting in a chair at the edge of the room. 

He was more humming than fully singing, the tune completely unfamiliar to you, and watching the children that rested peacefully on their sleeping bags in the center of the floor. There was a look in his eye as he gazed down that made your heart grow larger just by witnessing it, a look of tranquility and pride that you had only ever seen when he talked about his children. As if on cue Jack woke up, stretching and wiping her eyes. 

“Are you alright, Jack?” He asked, voice incredibly soft as he rose and walked carefully towards the girl. 

“Yes, just tired of napping,” Jack responded. 

Diarmuid chuckled, patting her head and leading her away from the rest of the sleeping children. “How about we get you a juice box or a snack to keep you busy until everybody wakes up?” He asked, and when she nodded happily he immediately headed towards the mini-fridge that sat in the corner of the room, asking her what she would like. You had seen enough, then, and quickly went back to tell the farming party to grab Hokusai instead. 

For days Diarmuid’s little song rang through your memories, making you smile every time you felt down. It was like a sign that you weren’t making the wrong choice by trying for a baby with him. Seeing him interact so kindly with Jack, a servant notorious within caretakers for being hard to deal with sometimes, only solidified things further. You never told Diarmuid of what you saw, but he figured it out after you hummed the same tune that he had one night while washing dishes for Emiya. When you eventually did have your baby, you knew it would be sung the same sweet tune. 

Sight: Flowers

Diarmuid was a very spontaneous lover. From breakfasts in bed for no reason at all to bouquets of white roses appearing at your door on a seemingly random but regular basis, the only thing you could be sure of was that he would always catch you off guard with his grand romantic gestures. It was hard to decide which of his gestures was the most romantic, but one stood out in particular.

It had been a normal morning when he suddenly reached out. He wasn’t in bed when you woke up and hadn’t left a note so you ate breakfast on your own before a letter showed up, slid under your door like in some sort of murder mystery. _Dress up nice and meet me at the rayshifting room_ was written in an effortless but loopy font, making you chuckle. Ah Diarmuid, what was he planning this time...

You dressed up in your favorite outfit and as the minutes passed while you did your hair you couldn’t help but try to figure out what the special occasion was. It wasn’t your anniversary or either of your birthdays, but you couldn’t help but think that maybe there was something else big you were forgetting. Rushed by your curiosity, you were at the rayshifting room just 15 minutes after you received the letter. Diarmuid was, of course, there to greet you.

“Good morning my dearest, you look lovely this morning,” he said softly, leaning in for a quick kiss. You giggled as you kissed him, enjoying every second but eager to get on with the mystery. Pulling away, he continued, retrieving a small strip of black fabric from his pack pocket. 

“Diar, in the hallway?” you said, scandalised.

He just shook his head no. “In order to keep the surprise a surprise I need you to put this on,” It was either keep your sight or miss the excitement so you let your lover tie the blindfold in place. You trusted him more than was rational, honestly. In the newfound darkness you found your senses heightened and let Diarmuid lead you forward. 

In a moment you were placed in your rayshifting capsule. It was odd to use the machine without sight, even though it wasn’t as if you tended to keep your eyes open during the shift itself. Before a minute had passed you were at your destination. It was warm, a soft breeze lingering gently in the air and filling your nose with the scents of spring. Dirt, water, flowers, pine sap; everything mixed into an amalgam of nature that was breathed into your lungs and shed back into the world by the second. “Can I see now?” you asked playfully.

“Not quite yet,” Diarmuid responded. It took him a minute to lead you foreward a bit and reposition you towards his desired direction, but then it was time. “I hope you like your gift,” he whispered before undoing your blindfold and letting the view race towards you.

Before you, glistening with dew in the early morning sun, were hundreds of thousands of wildflowers. In their brilliant pinks and yellows and purples and blues they blanketed the distance for as far as the eye could see. Even the hills in the horizon still donned the foliage. You had seen many great places in history, from the coliseums of ancient Rome to Shinjuku’s brilliant neon lights, but never before had you seen something quite as beautiful as the sight before you. It was enough to bring you to tears.

“What prompted this?” you whispered, wiping away the tears from your eyes as you turned to Diarmuid, who seemed to be laying down a picnic blanket and bringing out a few containers of food from his bag. 

“A few weeks ago we watched that animated movie, Howl’s Moving Castle, and when Howl gave Sophie his cottage and the field of flowers you said that it was the most romantic gesture you had ever seen,” he answered as if putting all of this together for you was the easiest thing in the world, “Ever since then I’ve been working with DaVinci to create this permanent rayshifting location for you, so you can have your own field of flowers. Plus, as a bonus, you get to keep me around instead of having me run away and join a war!”

Throwing yourself into the knights awaiting arms you smiled brightly. “Thank you Diar,” you said, nuzzling your face into the soft exposed skin of his neck, “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this,” 

“Perhaps being my wife would be enough?” He asked sheepishly. After all he had done for you, the only possible answer was yes. 

You enjoyed your picnic in peace that morning and prepared a small handfasting ceremony in the flower field that night. It was a day to remember, and just the first moment of a new chapter in your lives. You wouldn’t have had it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! This is the first time I’ve tried a more segmented, vignette-type story so I hope it was satisfiying to read. This fic’s song, Collage by Sangatsu no Phantasia, is the ending credits song for Today’s Menu for the Emiya Family, which is a super cute cooking anime that features the characters from Fate/Stay Night in a world with no grail war going on, though all the servants are still there. The song is all about someone appreciating all the little moments in their life and wanting to save them all together in a collage so they could remember them forever, so I thought it would be cute to do cute little moments between Diarmuid and his master to capture the idea of the song. If you haven’t heard it, I suggest looking it up! 
> 
> Anyways, Sacred is next on my list to upload, I just need to make some finishing edits before I put it up. If you enjoyed this style and want to see more of it in the future or just liked the work leave me a comment letting me know! As always, thank you for supporting me, I hope you enjoyed <#
> 
> (PS, this was also an excuse to show off all my random Diarmuid headcanons, like how he eats cough drops like a fiend and how he’s an excellent chef. I regret nothing.)


	23. Viva La Vida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A statue at the Louvre has caught your eye every single time you visited since childhood. When you get your dream job as a night guard there you find yourself drawn to it even more than before. Is it simply curiosity, or is there something beyond your perception pulling you towards him. 
> 
> One of the possible universes mentioned in There Was A Time I Could Breathe, but it doesn’t have to be read as such.

The first time you ever visited the Louvre, you were five years old. Paris was, to be honest, extremely boring to you back then. Sure, the Eiffel Tower was nice to look at and the pastries were good, but there was so much walking around and looking at boring adult stuff that you didn’t understand, so most of the memories melded together in a muddled mess of boredom. That is, all except one. 

It was the fifth and final full day of your visit when your family dragged you into the Louvre. They touted all of the famous art and you would see, but none of it interested you. The Mona Lisa was just a tiny lady across a sea of humans to you, nothing special. As the hours passed and your feet began to hurt you were already dead in the water. How much boring, uninteresting art could you reasonably expect a toddler to look at without complaints? Then, right before you would’ve released the meltdown of the century, you saw him. 

He was nestled between a statue of Apollo ascending to the sky and a similar statue of Dionysus sitting mid-reverie. Dressed in nothing but a silk wrap around his hips, he held a sword and a spear. The most striking aspect of him was his face, though. Despite the fact that he seemed poised to strike his eyes were filled with kindness. He seemed so realistic, so alive, that it was hard not to reach out your tiny hand and touch his porcelain skin. 

Curious for the first time, you tugged on your mother’s sleeve. When she regarded you, you pointed at the statue in awe. “What’s that one,” you asked. 

She approached it’s placard for a moment before returning to your side and giving your hand a squeeze in hers. “It’s a statue of a famous Irish hero. The rest of the information is too difficult for me to translate,” 

A million questions writhed within your young mind in that moment. Who was he? Why was he a statue? Why did the artist give him no clothes? But when your mother gave you a disapproving look as you opened your mouth, you shoved them all down for another time. You stood there for 10 minutes while the rest of your family browsed the room, eyes stuck on this statue who seemed to smile right back at you, before you were pulled away and taken to the next exhibit, and as you turned back to look at him one more time and waved goodbye you could've sworn his eyes followed you out.

You didn’t return again till you were 16 and the memory of the statue was just that, a memory of childhood that had dulled considerably with time. The trip to Paris was sponsored by your high school’s french language club. You were visiting the Louvre in small groups, and though the museum was massive enough that you hadn’t seen it all after spending the whole day there in your childhood you somehow found your group gravitating towards the hall of statues you’d enjoyed so much before. 

This time you were much more content to enjoy all of the art, not just the paintings that involved things like food or animals, but just as before the second you entered the room your eyes found the statue and stayed there. It was like he had some sort of gravitational pull, dragging you ever closer to him in all of his perfectly chiseled glory. In the glow of the overhead lights you found yourself remembering your previous trip and reliving the strange warm feeling you had enjoyed so much when you first saw him. This time, though, you appreciated him all the more. 

What before you had seen as silly or entertaining, like his large muscled arms and the silky wrap carved about his hips to protect his decency, now seemed unbelievably attractive to you. Your cheeks flushed. Were you really looking at some old statue and thirsting over it? Through your embarrassment you managed to look at the small descriptor sitting on a stand near his feet. It read;

_Diarmuid practices pour la bataille dans la campagne irlandaise. L'artiste: inconnue. Cette statue a été retrouvée dans un entrepôt avec plusieurs autres. L’artiste qui a créé toutes les statues n’avait jamais été identifié. Bien que créée dans le style romain et datée en tant que telle, la fable de Diarmuid n’était pas connue des romains. Ce mystère a valu à Diarmuid la place dans cette collection._

Unfortunately, you weren’t quite advanced enough at French to understand the whole thing. When the time came to leave once again with your group and you snuck one last glance towards the statue, with more questions than you’d had before. 

Upon your return home that name still haunted you. Diarmuid, Diarmuid, Diarmuid: it drifted through your subconscious and tainted your dreams. This time, though, you had the internet at your fingertips. 

In the weeks following your return you found yourself becoming an expert on Diarmuid and his story. Half of the original Romeo and Juliet, he had been cursed to die at the tusks of his foster father’s son, who had been transformed into a boar. To add insult to injury, he was cursed with a mole that would make all women fall in love with him and subsequently he was kidnapped by his lord’s fiance and forced to run away with her. Something about him drew you in, keeping you enthralled at whatever new information you could find about him and his story. Your fascination even helped you get through your finals when you wrote an essay about the different incarnations of the tradition star crossed lovers folktale. 

When you got into the college of your dreams studying ancient art history and they offered a year abroad in Paris, France, the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place. You would work on your projects and use your, now greatly refined, French skills most of the week so that on Saturdays you had plenty of free time. It became almost a ritual to visit the Louvre once a week, taking advantage of the student discount to visit Diarmuid in his eternal place between Apollo and Dionysus. Sometimes you’d sketch him and imagine him to be flesh once again. You had a whole sketchbook filled with images of Diarmuid, his face, his body, his hands, by the end of the year. Then, the year ended. You packed up your belongings, locked up your apartment, and in the hot May sunshine you visited Diarmuid for the last time for a while. 

The room was empty when you walked in and silent as a tomb. The only sound was your shoes creeping along the tile as you came to your usual place about a foot away from Diarmuid, holding your breath. You were embarrassed, but you felt it was only right to say goodbye to the thing that had kept you motivated for the past six years. 

“Hey,” you whispered to the empty air, “I know you’re not alive or anything, but I won’t be able to visit you again for a long time,” It felt ridiculous but right, somehow. “I just finished my exchange year, so I have to go back home and finish my education there. I know you’re just stone, but you’ve inspired me to follow my dreams and I, uh, wanted to thank you for that.”

“It’s so weird,” you continued, “I’ve started to feel like I actually know a part of you from how much time I’ve spent studying you. You’ve always seemed so vibrant and alive… Well, anyways, if you’re magic or alive and want to suddenly show yourself to me, now’s the time!” 

No response came. Diarmuid still sat, eternally poised for a sparring match he would never participate in, and smiled at you with kind eyes. You felt like an absolute idiot. With a groan you scrubbed at your weary eyes before offering the statue one last smile and a wave. “Well, buddy,” you chuckled as you turned on your heel, “it’s been one wild ride. I’ll see you on the other side,” 

Two years later, you finished your bachelors and wrote your final thesis on mysterious and unexplainable works of art. Diarmuid was, of course, on the list. Life went on from there. You taught art at a high school for a little while but found yourself dissatisfied. You wanted life, adventure, a world beyond the mundane. After a long application process, you found yourself back in Paris, but this time it wasn’t just a visit. This time you were there to stay. 

One of the first things you wanted to do was visit Diarmuid at the Louvre but something stopped you. There was a small nagging voice in the back of your head reminding you that what you had once had borderlined on obsession. It just wasn’t healthy to visit a statue every week, not to mention talking to it as if it could talk back. So, you stayed away. You worked at a small gallery for a while and after a few months you settled down with a man who was as good to you as you could expect him to be. There was peace, but again, after only a year of monotony, you found yourself yearning for adventure once again. 

Perhaps the universe punished you for asking for too much, but soon after your life fell apart. The gallery closed, your boyfriend left, the apartment you had been living in raised its prices so you had to move about half an hour outside of the city center where the jobs were. You felt betrayed. Paris was supposed to be the ultimate adventure, but this wasn’t a twist you had prepared for. Then you saw the flyer.

It was sitting on the counter at your favorite cafe like it had been placed there just for you. The Louvre, it advertised, was looking for night guards that were knowledgeable in art history, enough so that they would be able to, if needed, prioritize certain issues that arose in the night over others based on the potential damage that they would cause the art. You knew the second you read the flyer that it was the perfect job for you, and when you interviewed the position was given to you almost immediately, but there was only one problem; Diarmuid.

There was a guilt you felt when it came to the piece of art. You had every opportunity to visit it, even once, in the time since you had moved to Paris and yet you hadn’t. Instead you had avoided it at every cost. Now you were being pulled right back into the marble man’s gravitational field, taken to the place where it all began. It was impossible to prepare yourself and yet you knew you had to try. 

In the cool of the night, you started your first night of patrolling the Louvre in mid-February. There were massive snow banks all around outside and they covered some of the skylights completely, preventing the sweet moonlight from illuminating the floor. You met the nine other guards quickly at 10 minutes to eight, donning your beige work uniform and flashlight, and at eight exactly you each set off in a different direction to patrol or watch the CCTV’s from the office. Part of you wanted to make a beeline straight for Diarmuid and his companions and yet you didn’t, instead taking a long detour through another wing.

It was about 8:30 when you heard a voice through your radio. “Désolé vous tous. Le métrage CCTV est flou. Faites attention,” Shit. The CCTV going out couldn’t be good, but you figured maybe one of the wires had frozen in the almost sub-zero temperature of the night. About 10 minutes later, though, the worst happened. You heard a crash. 

Immediately you ran off in the direction of the noise only to find yourself skidding into the room where the Mona Lisa is housed. Standing there, just steps away from the precious painting, was a man in all black with a gun strapped to his hip. Double shit. You tried your best to be as quiet as possible and back out of the room but the second you hit a squeaky tile it was all over. The intruder's head snapped up to attention and when his eyes met yours, your fight or flight instinct kicked in.

You ran like you’d never ran before. In that darkness, watched by the eyes of hundreds of works of art, your feet carried you without your mind even truly working. The only thing you could truly comprehend was the sound of your own feet hitting the tile and the sound of the intruder’s feet behind you, slowly getting further away but not enough to guarantee your safety. All rational thought should have led you to an exit, from there you would be able to lead the thief away from your coworkers but also hide well enough that they couldn’t find and kill you. Unfortunately, you weren’t thinking rationally. Instead your body followed muscle memory, leading you deeper and deeper into the bowels of the museum without you even noticing.

Only when you entered the room, with it’s deep crimson wallpaper and cream marble tile did you realize where you had taken yourself. Once again, for the first time in years, you found yourself face to face with Diarmuid. There was no time for a cheerful reunion, though. With the intruder's footsteps getting closer every second you rushed to the back side of the statue, probably setting off all the silent alarms and alerting your coworkers to your presence, and pressed your body to Diarmuid’s back in an attempt to hide. 

Closing your eyes and holding your breath, you heard the footsteps finally slow down as they entered the room. “Oh, nightguard!” They called, their accent a harsh southern drawl that definitely didn’t belong in these hallowed halls, “I know you’re in here somewhere!” Suddenly, you heard a massive smash at your right. Peeking to the side, you saw that Dionysius’ head had been blown clean off, shattering against the impact of the bullet. Oh god, you were about to die. 

One by one, you heard the statues that had kept you company get destroyed. Something in your heart shattered. These were what might be the last remaining art of an incredibly talented yet unknown roman artist and yet this man was destroying them as if they were nothing. Taking your life, somehow, was more important.

“You know,” the man continued, taking his second to last shot and destroying Apollo’s peaceful facade with a bang, “I came here to destroy the Mona Lisa and maybe get rid of a few old fat guards if they tried to stop me, but this? This is so much better!” In the darkness and momentary silence that followed you closed your eyes once again. At least you and your statue would go out together you thought wistfully. In the peace that came before the slaughter you could almost feel Diarmuid’s body, warm and flesh against yours. Then the shot rang out, and a flash of blinding light surrounded you, blinding you even though your eyes were shut. 

The telltale smashing of marble never came, though. As you blinked away the painful light and looked around the statue was no longer on its pedestal, nor was it in pieces on the floor. Instead, a man dressed in nothing but a swathe of silk was holding a red spear to the armed man’s neck, bristling with anger. “What are you?” The intruder whispered, shaking like a leaf.

The larger man responded snidely, “a better man than you,” and then in one swift movement he had smacked the black-clad man on the head, knocking him to the floor, out cold. Only after shifting the man a bit with his foot did the almost naked man turn to you, his weapons disappearing into thin air. “Ah, Master,” he sighed, smiling wistfully and looking down at you with golden eyes that radiated kindness, “so this is the you I shall accompany this time,” 

You were too shocked to respond. This man, this… thing, could only be one person in the entire universe. “Diarmuid?” You asked, blinking quickly as if he would disappear like a mirage, “is that you?” 

nodded and took several strides towards you, kneeling down and revealing a bit more of the v leading past his hips for your comfort. ”So you know of me already? That certainly makes things easier,” His voice was filled with wonderment and familiarity though you had never heard it before. Still, you were a little too shocked to fully accept the sight in front of you. 

“But you were a statue!” You blurted out, “One second you were literally made of stone and now you’re… well I don’t know what you are!” Your eyes were wide enough that you thought they might pop out of your head. That was when you heard more loud footsteps approaching. “Oh god,” you groaned, head in your hands, “how am I going to explain all this to my boss?” 

“Don’t worry about that, just tell them this statue of me was gone when you entered the room. You are lucky you escaped with your life from this madman, so none of the blame will fall on you. I shall meet you outside at your car,” Diarmuid’s idea seemed absolutely believable when he said it, but it really made zero sense. Then he leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, and before you could tell him that he couldn’t possibly sneak past the guards or go outside without clothing, he was gone, disappearing into thin air like a ghost. When the night guards and police ran into the room, you were sitting on the floor and completely unsure about if what you had just seen was real or just some heavenly fallacy you’d created at the moment you died. 

Time went on, though. You used Diarmuid’s story and they believed it wholeheartedly, inferring that you had bashed the man on the head with your flashlight when you got the opportunity. The statue mystery they wrote off as minimal, probably stolen by the man and hidden away somewhere within the museum where they’d find it later. You were given the rest of the week off due to the pending investigation and soon, once the police made sure you were still functioning enough to get home, you found yourself wandering out into the parking lot. 

The snow was still covering the ground in a thick, twinkly blanket. You almost slipped on ice several times on your trip to the car, legs shaking slightly as you walked. Whether it was from the near death experience or the anticipation of seeing Diarmuid again you couldn’t tell. When you reached your car you saw a man in the passenger seat and, with not a single fear in your heart, you got into the driver's seat. He had a lot of explaining to do. 

“Well,” you whispered, settling into your seat and looking towards the man next to you, “tell me everything,” Though you were unsure how he had changed into a green tunic and some leather pants with black, steel toed boots. He still looked like himself, though. You noticed, almost amusedly, that his hair was black, not red like you’d always assumed it would be. 

Leaning towards you and holding your hand gently in his larger one, Diarmuid smiled. “Of course, Master,” he said, wearing the same kind expression you had seen when you were a wide eyed toddler at his feet, “but before I do, there’s something I’d like to try,” He leaned in, face inches from yours, and before you could comprehend his words he was kissing you, lips that had once been cold marble instead meshing with yours as warm living muscle. That night was the beginning of everything.

A few years later, in the warmth of your new penthouse apartment bought with the money given to you by the Louvre in a hefty severance package, you showed Diarmuid an article in the paper detailing the strange disappearance of his statue inside the Louvre, adding to the mystery that had already followed it since it’s discovery. “Do you even know where it came from?” you asked, enjoying your toast as you watched the sun rise.

“Oh, yes,” he chuckled, having a mini epiphany, “you made me,” 

You almost choked on your toast. “What did you just say?” 

“Well, not you I suppose, a different incarnation of your soul,” he explained nonchalantly, sitting down next to you, “you were a sculptor’s apprentice in Ancient Rome and your master summoned me in the hopes of finding a Muse. The rest of the statues that man destroyed were his work, but me? I was your first and only sculpture,” There was a hint of pride in Diarmuid’s words as he continued, “we were lovers,” 

You gasped, feigning scandal. “Lovers? Impossible,” 

In the soft sunlight, Diarmuid chuckled and held you closer. “With you, my dearest, nothing is impossible,” You kissed then, and in the safety of your former statue’s arms, all was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!
> 
> Ok, I have to be honest with everybody. There wasn’t a chapter yesterday because I revisited a pairing I haven’t written for like... 6 years and then ended up staying awake all night and writing a 10,000 word fic that I will probably never publish. This entire work is peppered with little references to said pairing, and if anyone guesses it I will be shocked, but I’m refocused and ready to rock these last few chapters.
> 
> Anyways, we hit 1000 views! I never would have imagined having a dedicated group that would actually come back and read my chapters regularly enough that before my work even finished it would have 1000 hits. You guys are the best, I owe all of you so much and I’m so glad you’re here on this journey with me. 
> 
> This fic’s song was Viva La Vida by Coldplay, not really for any reason besides it’s hype and the cover of the album is the painting Liberty Leading the People (which is a major hint for the pairing that inspired this lol) which pictures a scene from the French Revolution, which matters because is is set in France. 
> 
> I love comments, so if you have any thoughts don’t be afraid to let me know! Thank you again for your time and patience. You make these fics worth writing <3


	24. Be With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the final singularity draws near, you ponder the future and what it might hold. Maybe things aren't quite as bleak as you thought they were...

“What happens next?” 

The words fell from your lips, heavy, before you even realized that you were verbalizing the tempest within your mind. From your position, curled up against Diarmuid on the library’s velveteen sofa, you could hear the sleet outside pounding against the metallic roof. It made a sort of static; an ever present ambiance that you only ever noticed when you paid close attention. Part of you wished you hadn’t become so numb to it.

Diarmuid looked up from his book at the sound of your voice. He was wearing casual clothes, a rare occasion but one that you enjoyed every second of. There was a curiosity in his eyes, and yet he didn’t speak a word. You two were so finely attuned to each other’s company that he knew exactly when you needed to determine the pace of the conversation on your own. In turn, you knew that he didn’t have the slightest clue as to what you were talking about. With a sigh, you leaned closer to his warmth and enjoyed it as much as you could, fending off Chaldea’s ever present chill. 

“We leave for the last singularity in a week,” Your explanation was vague, and yet it was enough. 

A soft _ah_ escaped Diarmuid. Setting down his book and sitting up, he was careful not to jostle your bruised ribs. Your body was still healing from fighting through Camelot, bandaged and packed with healing salves that should patch you up just in time for your next rayshift, so he was incredibly deliberate with his movement, making sure not to move even a single hair on your head out of place. 

In front of you the fire that some earlier visitor to the library had built was slowly starting it’s descent from glory. It’s little flames licked greedily at the charred logs, forcing them to crumble away into charcoal and ash in the end. If you failed to save humanity would you suffer the same fate, eaten away to feed some great destruction before the earth reached the event horizon? You didn’t want to think about it. Still, even born of destruction, the fire was just part of the natural order of things. It took that senseless destruction and turned it into heat and light. Even fire could be beautiful, you supposed, as it’s warm light danced along your curves and edges, bathing you in a golden glow. 

“I don’t want to talk about what might happen if things don’t work out,” you said, locking eyes with Diarmuid for a moment before moving your gaze back to the fireplace. Instead of leaving you to ponder, he shifted his body to face the fire as you did. How romantic that you’d found a man to face fire with, you couldn’t help but think. “If it ends there...” the words slipped through the cracks of your mind before you could even squeeze them out of your mouth. 

In the emptiness of the world you inhabited now, a world containing billions of lives that rested firmly on your shoulders but only truly consisted of several hundred people in one sterile and cold facility, you couldn’t help but feel completely lost when it came to the possibility that you might lose and destroy everything. Stranger still, if you did manage to beat all the odds and destroy the Mage King once and for all, you would have to find a way to return to the world you had once known. How could there be a future of endless, monotonous and peaceful days far away from mages or rayshifting or _servants_? That hit the hardest. What was a future without your partner by your side?

With a squeeze of your hand, Diarmuid said, “It won’t,” Somehow he always knew just the right thing to say to make you feel like there was a way to come out on top.

“When this is over,” you started, cautious, as if every word needed to be exact and precise to avoid any miscommunications, “when I eventually leave Chaldea, what happens from there?” It was less of a question aimed towards Diarmuid and more introspective, though you didn’t have even half of the energy needed to face it as such. It felt good to release it all into the world. When you actually said it out loud, bared your soul to the excruciating ordeal that is being fully transparent with the person who’s opinion of you was only second in importance to you as your own, it lifted off a weight you didn’t realize you’d been carrying. For the first time since it started to dwell on you, you felt like you could breathe. 

Diarmuid, always helpful, seemed to know the answer. “Well, with the hefty paycheck you’ll be owed and any investment tips you get from one of the servants with clairvoyance, I believe that what happens next is your choice, Master,” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Of course you were the master of your own fate, why wouldn’t you be? Well, after all of your opportunities and options were stolen from you by a monster hell-bent on destroying humanity you weren’t exactly used to having agency over your own life anymore. 

In the mornings you woke up at 5 am sharp and ate whatever breakfast Emiya managed to scrape together with the ever dwindling food supply before taking out servants for required farming and spending time practicing your magecraft. Each day of the week had a schedule determined by DaVinci so you could rotate teams and what materials you were actually farming. When a singularity showed up in Chaldeas, you were called away at it’s whim. Even in your precious free time, the evenings you’d spend recumbent at Diarmuid’s side, you were limited to the activities provided by Chaldea’s storage. After almost two years, you had probably watched every movie more than twice and put a good dent in the books available, not to mention all the board games you played repeatedly with the children. What would you do when you were presented with endless options again? How was it that you could make massive choices, where there consequence for a misstep was the death of the entire world, but you couldn’t fathom the idea of figuring out what you’d possibly choose to do when you got your freedom back and choices fell on you alone. 

“It’s all just a lot,” you groaned, scrubbing the beginnings of tears away from your eyes. “I don’t know, but what I _do_ know is that I don’t want to waste any of the time we have left together on this sad stuff. I want this week to be the best week we’ve ever had, even with my stupid bruised ribs,” You tried to push some mirth into your voice, you really did, but it all fell flat. It was like all of the courage you had built up was being drained slowly from your body, like you were some sort of deflating pool floaty abandoned on a beach. 

If you didn’t know Diarmuid as well as you did you would think that he would be upset by all of the doom and gloom, but you _did_ know him. You knew him inside and out, probably better than you even knew yourself. Each and every plane of his body was etched into your memory. The timbre of his voice, the husky way his laughter caught in the back of his throat, the menthol taste of his kisses; all of Diarmuid was known to you, so you expected the soft embrace you received from behind and accepted in happily. 

“In my mind,” he started, resting his chin on the top of your head, “when we are finally free of the restrictions within Chaldea, I will finally see you bloom.” There was something magical about the way Diarmuid could weave a story from just words, painting a picture within your mind’s eye and making you believe even the most beautiful lies could be true. “If you wish to settle down somewhere we shall find the perfect home, surrounded by things you like to do or want to see, and spend the rest of your years there in a restful repose. On the other hand, if you wish to travel the world I shall follow you anywhere. America, Japan, Britain, Mexico, Austria; the world is filled with many places that would provide endless opportunities. We would never sleep in the same place twice and live our lives like nomads,” 

When you chuckled dismissively, Diarmuid only doubled down. “Our marriage will be an event like no other, catered and decorated in exactly the way you desire. We shall eat and drink and be merry for every day as man and wife until, in peaceful old age, you will move on to your eternal reward. Though that day will not come for many, many years, we shall fill each day with joy and live without regret so when it does come, you feel happy and fulfilled,” Guiding your chin to urge you to meet his gaze, Diarmuid sighed. “Why don’t you see the future as I do? Why does such an opportunity scare you?”

“Because I don’t know if it’s possible,” you whispered. The fire was minuscule now, just minutes away from extinguishing and leaving the two of you bathed in darkness, with only a few, small incandescent lights hanging from the far side of the room illuminating you from afar. It almost looked defeated as it clung to the last bit of log, draining it of all it’s potential in a desperate attempt to just live for a few moments longer. Maybe the Mage King wasn’t like fire. Instead, maybe you were the one clinging to minuscule odds in the hopes of life. “I’m sorry Diar, but how will you ever be able to leave here?” 

“Using a grail, of course,” He spoke softly but the words seemed rehearsed, almost like he had prepared for this moment. “If I wish to continue being your servant outside of Chaldea, I’m sure it will give us the power required to do so. If not, I could always wish to take a mortal form and live out a normal life with you,” You sat dumbfounded as he mentioned the loss of his power and near-immortality with a shrug of his shoulders, as if it were simply an afterthought in a more important plan. “The Mage’s Association may poke their noses into our business, but frankly they have no idea how many grails we’ve retrieved in our travels. I’m sure if we simply changed the records a bit with DaVinci and Dr. Roman’s assistance, it would only be a small inconvenience to acquire a grail,” 

Part of you, however small, was starting to buy into the fantasy. It wasn’t as if Diarmuid’s idea was irrational. Actually, it was extremely well thought out and grounded in possibility. Still you resisted. “In this day in age, people need legal documents to live. How are we going to explain you just appearing out of thin air?” 

“We shall use your new and endless wealth to buy me an identity. I am sure that, at the right price, we will be able to get forgeries that are more than accurate,” Diarmuid moved his mouth to your neck then, letting his lips brush the vulnerable skin with his every word. 

Damn him, it wasn’t fair that he knew all your weak spots. “It seems like you’ve done your research,” you remarked, and for the first time all night a real smile passed over your lips. It was fleeting, just a quick upturn of the corners of your mouth that was barely perceptible to someone who wasn’t paying close attention, but it was _there_. Hope rushed through your veins like a drug, bringing you up on a high that seemed to drag you from the pits of a lowest low. 

“Of course I’ve done my research!” Diarmuid exclaimed softly, “It’s your job to fix singularities, so it only makes sense that making sure you have a long and restful retirement would be _my_ job,” He nipped your neck gently after he said ‘my’, a sort of natural emphasis that sent you into a fit of shivers. The playfulness lived out its purpose, but soon faded into silence again. “Have I convinced you yet?” Diarmuid asked, all business but still retaining a certain gentility in his timbre. 

After everything, you relented. “I think I know what comes next now,” you replied, leaning into his gentle touch. “Thank you,” you added, “for taking such good care of me even when I don’t quite know how,” 

With his face now removed from the crook of your neck, Diarmuid turned you as gingerly as he could, careful to not put pressure on your bad ribs as he did so, and pressed your foreheads together. In seconds your breathing and heartbeats synched up, the two of you becoming one. In that moment you could see the endless possibilities waiting for you once you finished the trials ahead. Maybe things weren’t quite so unbearable anymore.

“I will always be here,” Diarmuid assured you, “I shall be the roof above your head and the walls surrounding you. Summer, winter, fall, or spring, I will never fail you. Please believe me,” there was a base desperation in his tone; a plea, “please trust that when you fall, I will catch you. Please,” 

At the final please, you swept Diarmuid up into a kiss. It wasn’t one of the passionate, fevered kisses you usually shared, all teeth and tongues clashing with the fervor of the heavens above and hell below. Instead it was passionate in a different way. Soft, slow, and painfully natural, you couldn’t really tell where his body started and your body began as he pulled you closer. 

In the heat of the moment you didn’t notice when the fire was suddenly extinguished, plunging you into partial darkness. It didn’t matter to you anymore, it was in the past. Why spend your precious time on earth worrying over flames that have already disappeared when in front of you, touching you, kissing you, was a future that burned brighter than even the sun. Intertwined, you closed your eyes and surrendered to Diarmuid’s existence, slipping under his spell as easily as you breathed. With the end of the world looming as few as 7 little days away, you were filled with something familiar, something bright enough to save humanity and save you all at once: hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I know this is kind of rambly and overly-poetic in places, but I had a really good day today after a series of not so great months so I wanted to put that feeling of hope and lightness after dark into a fit in the best way I could. 
> 
> This fic’s song is called The Roof. It was written by Andrea Ramsey, a phenomenal choral composer, and it always makes me really emotional. I suggest wholeheartedly that you listen to it, enough so that I’m including a link. Even if you don’t usual enjoy choral music, the message of the song never fails to make me feel a little less hopeless in hard times. 
> 
> Anyways! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. We’re nearing the home stretch of chapters now, with the last 2 uploads both containing two chapters each, so I hope you’re ready to make it to the end with me. As always, comments make my day and I always love hearing what you guys think about my stories, so please don’t be afraid of leaving one! Thanks again for all the support! <3


	25. Unlikely Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you and Diarmuid got married, you promised to love each other in sickness and health. When sickness gets in the way of your life and threatens your life, Diarmuid refuses to break that promise.
> 
> TW for a potentially terminal illness

It all started somewhat innocently with an incident including a bit too much wine and a birdbath. The small structure was a new addition to the garden you and Diarmuid had started to tend, taking up most of the backyard and transforming what used to be a plain suburban lot into a sight that must have rivaled Eden. The birdbath itself was a final touch. It was white marble, made up of a simple basin on an unornamented pedestal tucked under the shade of your fruiting pear tree.

While it would have been incredibly easy to just pull the hose out and fill the birdbath manually, you and Diarmuid had shared a bottle of rosé with lunch, though, and it had gotten you just tipsy enough to feel adventurous. “Wait, I have an idea,” you had exclaimed, rushing into the garden shed and grabbing a little chunk of blue chalk from the bucket right inside the door. 

When you returned, triumphant, Diarmuid was smirking at you from across his wine glass. He wasn’t affected in the least due to his status as a heroic servant, but he still liked to join in on the fun whenever you indulged. “What’s that for?” He asked, but you shushed him.

“I’m trying to remember the rune for water,” you chuckled under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut and conjuring up the memory. Chaldea, and with it all of Caster Cu and Skadi’s teachings, seemed so far in the past, a colorful blob of light and sound that you were finding harder to remember, but somehow it appeared in your mind.

With a triumphant  _ aha!  _ you approached the basin, cracking your knuckles before diving in. It was just two strokes, almost like a slanted F missing one of it’s lines, but the second you lifted the chalk up you were filled with the familiar tingle of mana rushing through your body. Water filled the basin to the brim, washing the rune away from the bottom and leaving you with a pleased expression on your face. 

“I’ve still got it,” you gloated, turning back to Diarmuid with a bright smile on your face while he clapped enthusiastically. Everything seemed to have gone swimmingly, only as you took a step towards your husband your whole body seemed to go weak, collapsing into his arm in an embarrassing mishap. The moment was chalked up to your magic circuits being a little rusty and brushed off as something to laugh about, but you couldn’t help but notice the burning in your magic circuits that lasted late into the night. 

Next, it was cutting an apple. You had grown sick of the things after your years of binging on golden, silver, and bronze ones for farming, especially during the years where Gil would drag everyone to New York for his stupid festival, but somehow you found yourself craving one with your oatmeal one morning. Diarmuid was your polar opposite in opinion on apples, eating one with lunch every day while working at his flower shop, so it was easy to just reach into the fridge and grab one to eat. The problem came when you tried to slice it. 

You liked to think of yourself as more than capable in the kitchen after years of trying to keep up with Diarmuid’s nimble fingers while making dinners but something about the apple tripped you up. Maybe it was the waxy skin or the water droplets that still rested on the slick surface after you washed it, but in the moment you put pressure on the knife it slipped out from its place above the halved apple and left you with a nasty slice on the skin between your thumb and forefinger. The second it made contact with your flesh you dropped the knife onto the wooden cutting board and rushed yourself over to the skin, squeezing the wound and swearing like a sailor. 

With a quick once over you made sure that you hadn’t severed anything major and found that the damage was mostly superficial. Despite that, it still hurt like a bitch. Even in your pain you found the strength to run the cut under cold water and take a few deep breaths to steady yourself. This wasn’t anything you hadn’t dealt with before, right? You focused all your energy into the would, closed your eyes, and focused on chanting the healing spell, expecting the familiar rush of warmth and relief you always got. Nothing came. 

You opened your eyes and the cut was still bleeding into the faucet’s flow. Thinking it must just be a temporary fluke, a potential blockage in your circuits brought on by disuse, you tried again to no avail. You must have stood at that sink for 20 minutes after taking the cut out from under the water trying your very hardest to stitch the skin back together again like you’d done with stray cuts for years and years but in the end the effort was futile. Your mana just wasn’t flowing.

In that terrifying moment you were thankful that Diarmuid received his power from a grail instead of you. If he didn’t, would he have disappeared before then? You couldn’t quite tell. Instead of facing the problem head on you buried it deep within yourself. The apple was cleaned up from its place on the cutting board, already browning from all the time it had sat oxidizing, and a bandage was placed over the cut before you just continued on with your day as if nothing had ever happened. The next and final time something strange happened, though, it wouldn’t be that simple. 

You hadn’t been able to use mana at all ever since the apple cutting incident, but it didn’t affect your daily life much at all. There were a few more bandaged fingers or unfurled hoses than there had been before, but it just felt normal in your day to day motions. Because of this, Diarmuid didn’t know about your loss. When he asked about the little changes you excused it as wanting to do things the old fashioned way. Life was no different and no less lovely than it had been before. That was, until you fell; that was the final straw. 

It was just a normal night for you and Diarmuid. He was folding clothes in the bedroom while you washed the bathroom sink a few rooms away. Music was playing, something jazzy that was too muddled for you to make out the lyrics but you hummed along anyways. You had been feeling overly tired for a few days, your body achy and tender to the touch, but you had also been doing a whole bunch of spring cleaning, so it didn’t worry you much. At worst it would turn into a bad cold which you’d ride out on cough drops and NyQuil.

Once you were done with the mirror, you walked towards the door with the intention of going to help Diarmuid. You never got that far, though. While recalling that night weeks later you hazily remembered that you hoped to dance with Diarmuid, sweep him up into your arms and slip around your wooden floors in your socks putting together a sloppy execution of a waltz. Instead, you fell, the whole dead weight off your unresponsive body slamming into the floor and leaving you deeply bruised. 

When you woke up a week later in the hospital you learned that Diarmuid had carried you all the way to the hospital, knowing that he could run you there faster than he could put you in the car and safely drive you. The doctors were baffled by your condition, stating that your body was slowly deteriorating with no known medical cause. You, though, could only guess that this had something to do with your time at Chaldea. Only at this point, when you were unable to get up from your hospital bed on your own, did you tell Diarmuid the truth. You expected anger, some sort of resentment for not informing him, but none of that came. Instead, Diarmuid just hugged you and promised he wouldn’t leave your side. He kept that promise, never leaving the chair next to your bed in all of the time you spent at the hospital.

In the following weeks, filled with endless tests that gave you ample time for self reflection, you came up with two possibilities for why this could possibly have been happening to you, and neither were particularly nice to think about. The first idea was that somehow after all of the time you had spent around cursed servants like Serenity and Dantès, their poison had finally seeped it’s way past your curse resistance and was now breaking you down. That was unlikely though, based on how much time had passed since you interacted with any servant other than Diarmuid.

Your other idea was no prettier. You thought, perhaps, that after years and years of exerting your magical circuits to their limits they had started to drain away your life force itself. It was far fetched, you admitted that, but it made sense in an odd, roundabout way. You were able to push yourself beyond the reasonable limits in the hopes of surviving that week, that day, that moment, but in the end all that borrowed time was just stolen from the back end of your life. Even if that was true you didn’t regret a moment of it, you would do it all again if you had that chance, but there was a sort of melancholy in having all of those memories tarnished.

No matter why you were getting eaten up from the inside, though, it was just a fact that you were. That was what landed you in a semi-permanent bed in some secluded ward of the hospital where you’d be poked and prodded all morning and watch crappy courtroom dramas and whatever else was available on the tiny television that hung across the room. The night in question you were enjoying a random episode of Criminal Minds when Diarmuid took your hand in his. 

“It’s such a blessing that I found you, despite all the odds. At least, that’s what I think, don’t you?” He muttered, swiping his thumb over your knuckles with an odd wistfulness in his voice. He had been taking your slow fall from grace harder than he liked to let on. Before your time at the hospital you had never seen Diarmuid look tired in the slightest, but now permanent bags seemed to reside under his eyes. He tended to wax poetic less than before these days but when he did you knew something was bothering him.

Unfortunately, you didn’t quite have a way to fix it, if you did you wouldn’t need his assistance to do things as simple as going to the bathroom, so instead you tried to infuse some lightheartedness into the room. “Do you want me to reply to that?” You jested, but even while you made the snide remark you squeezed Diarmuid’s hand back, a sign that you were still there with him. 

“You don’t have to,” he shot back, “still, I can’t help but be grateful for every second I’ve had the honor of standing by your side. 

That made you smirk, letting your thumb drift to your wedding ring and rub it, an old habit you had picked up somewhere. “Please don’t start getting morbid on me,” you giggled. How was it so easy to talk about your own mortality? Everything was too confusing to truly take a deep look at. When Diarmuid rolled his eyes, you continued, “It’s just that I’m not actually dead yet,” your voice was far too cheery for the subject matter, “I might be sick but I’m still kicking,” Only when Diarmuid’s face fell did you pause your merciless teasing, “alright, alright, I’ll stop,” 

“Are you going to sleep soon?” He asked.

“Probably, it’s been a long day,” you replied. That wasn’t a lie, you had been awake since 5 am when the shift changed and your nurse came in to check your vitals and redo your IV drip, but you weren’t actually that tired, especially after the hour long nap you took after lunch. When you went to turn over and rest on your side, though, Diarmuid put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“You know that I’ll still be here when you wake up, right?” His voice seemed small when he asked, so much smaller than it usually was. You didn’t honestly know if he stayed the night for your sake or his, but you did know he wouldn’t leave even if you begged him. Something about the thought of him sitting alone at your side, head filled with a million terrible outcomes, brought a soft frown to your face. He noticed it (because of course he would, he knew your face like he knew his own) and immediately tried to remedy it. “I’ll be waiting at your side, sad and sexually frustrated, for as long as you want me to be here,” 

The thing was, you didn’t. You felt terribly guilty knowing that he never got to be at home or tend to his flower shop just because your body made the choice to break down. It was an argument you had had a hundred times since you first got to the hospital and yet Diarmuid never budged from his seat. Somehow, you felt that it was worth another try, though. 

“Will you go home tonight, for me?” You asked, voice shaky, and Diarmuid had to turn away to avert his gaze. “You can watch your own TV there, and water the garden that’s probably wilting by now, hell you could even drink that beer we bought and never drank. Just… picture me in bed, all rosy-cheeked and happy, so that for one night you can escape all this,” When Diarmuid didn’t respond you pushed further, “Don’t be afraid, nothing will happen when you’re gone”

You weren’t quite sure if he had heard you. He seemed to be off in his own, zoned out world, with his eyes trained on the mounding that lined the bottom of the walls. Only when you gave him a little nudge did he awake from the trance, eyes apologetic and tear rimmed. “I’m not afraid, I wouldn’t be any good to you here if I were afraid,” he muttered, but it was all a blatant lie. “Just, let me stay here with you, please,” You weren’t going to deny him that, not when you had taken away his opportunity for a long, happy life and tinged his love with tragedy once again, so you nodded.

He rested his head on your lap then, eyes filled with unshed tears. You could almost feel his body trembling against yours as he relished in every small touch you gave him. Before your time in the hospital you had been extremely physically affectionate. There wasn’t a single day that went by without hugs and kisses around every corner, and each night ended with the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms. Now, though, that the bed you used was thin and your body was barely strong enough to support itself, more physical contact than a chaste peck on the lips or a squeeze on the hand was rare. The lack of everything had obviously taken its toll on Diarmuid more than he was willing to let on. 

“I know that the representatives from the Mage’s Association will be here on Sunday, and that they’re going to do everything in their power to find a cure to whatever is ailing you, but I’m terrified to admit that I might have failed you,” In that moment you were too shocked to even correct him, not after he had finally admitted how he really felt. “I just can’t stand the thought of losing you and knowing I didn’t do anything to help. I’m so afraid of facing the next battle alone that I haven’t quite accepted the reality of all this yet. Forgive me?”

Picking his chin up from your legs, you smiled softly through your tears. “Diar, you didn’t fail me. None of this is your fault,” You whispered, earning a relieved sigh from the knight. You were glad he didn’t fight the truth like he usually did. In the darkness of the hospital room, lit only by the electric screens of the TV and your monitors, it felt like everything had finally been revealed. Now, you just had to work through it. 

“Do you want to watch some Criminal Minds with me until I sleep?” You asked, getting a tired nod from your husband. It was unusual for you to be the one caring for him, especially given the current situation, but you didn’t mind one bit. It brought back some of the old feelings of domesticity you missed so much within the sterility of the hospital. In the morning, there would be more tests and worries but for then, in that moment, everything was okay.

“Hey Diar,” you whispered as you turned your focus back to the TV screen and tried to pay attention to whatever the characters were saying, “you know I love you, right?”

For the first time in a while he smiled. “Yes, Master,” he said, leaning his head on your shoulder, “and I love you too,” The two of you were an unlikely pair, brought together from different times by the universe in what you felt must have been divine intervention. That was why you knew that somehow, somehow, everything would be alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This fic is pretty sad, but the source material I drew it from is also pretty sad, so don’t blame me. In my dreams, the Mage’s Association would come and save the day but honestly, I think that it would be just as okay if everything was okay even as things didn’t get a “happy” ending. You can imagine whichever ending makes this more satisfying, lol.
> 
> This fic was written and heavily inspired by Unlikely Lovers, performed by Christian Borle and Andrew Rannels in Falsettos. It’s a musical about a man, Marvin, in the late 70’s & 80’s who finds himself stuck between wanting the perfect family with his wife and child and wanting to have a relationship with his lover, Whizzer. It’s a masterpiece and I’m sure a bootleg of when they filmed it professionally is on YouTube right now, so I suggest it to anybody who loves a good story.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the fic despite it’s more somber tone. The line up for these last 4 days is filled with heavy hitters (both fluffy and angsty) so I hope you’re excited for more! Thanks again <3


	26. A Thousand Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diarmuid, since his summoning, has picked up a plethora of odd hobbies. One night, when you find yourself unable to sleep, you find him hard at work on one of his newest fascinations: telegraphy.

Since the defeat of Goetia, Chaldea had become a much cheerier place. Now that the world outside was up and running again not only were you able to receive more shipments of fresh foods and perishable goods (thank god, because the toilet paper crisis had been getting dire), but also you opened the building up to an influx of new activities for the staff and servants to enjoy. There had always been  _ something  _ to do, with board games sitting in the game room and endless books waiting in the library, but that didn’t mean you could do what you wanted to. Now, though, you all were free. It seemed like every day a new package showed up in the mail filled with goodies. Despite the loss of income, because you had decided to let all of the money spent come out of your salary, it brought you more joy that you could comprehend. 

For so long many servants had been getting slightly melancholic, sitting and waiting for either victory or death with very little to pass the time, but now the halls were filled with life again, akin to the way they had been when you first arrived.

Emiya was cooking more adventurously than he ever had before, Medea had started up her own miniature making club, and there was a building-wide movie night held every Sunday where you’d enjoy the latest theatrical releases free of charge. Diarmuid, though, he seemed more enthralled by the new choices than everyone else combined. 

The moment you returned from the Temple of Time, you had thrown yourself into his arms and dragged him out to see the sunrise with Mash at your side, but when all that was over you had found yourself baffled by the opportunities that awaited you. Diarmuid had been a bit confused, so you explained that now it was possible to commune with the world again. Movies, games, books, activities; everything was waiting just a phone call or a google search away. When he realized just what you meant, Diarmuid smiled brighter than you had ever seen him smile before. 

From there, he was off like a shot. He had always been interested in helping Emiya in the kitchen but now he was able to try his own recipes and found he loved to bake. It was rare for you to wake up without finding some sort of bread or pastry waiting for you, still hot from the oven. Next, after you got an unfortunate hole in the elbow of your uniform, Diarmuid offered his help to patch it. It took him a bit of practice but once he got the hang of it he became quite proficient at not just patching holes, but also delicate embroidery or tailoring work. From there, his love of seeing grew. As the time passed it seemed like the list only got longer, including but not limited to; baking, sewing, beach volleyball, watercolors, photography, and fencing. All of this meant sometimes he would disappear for hours at a time, engrossed in his newest hobby, but you didn’t mind one bit. Watching Diarmuid experience the world like a wide-eyed child was one of your greatest joys in life. 

Due to his now frequent disappearances, it didn’t concern you when you woke up to an empty bed one chilly morning in February. You were wearing warm flannel pajamas that Diarmuid had sewn for you himself. They were warm enough that even the metallic, sub zero temperatures didn’t bother you a bit as you shuffled out of bed and into the hallway. The clocks that hung high on the halls every few meters blinked at 2:34. With sleep heavy eyes you wandered, not really knowing where you were going or why you were going there. Something in you just made you feel the need to move around for a bit. 

After a few minutes of walking you found yourself wandering down a hallway towards a soft yellow light. Ahead a door stood ajar and waiting in the doorway was a staff member you’d run into several times before. “Thank you again,” he called softly into the room before scuttling off in the opposite direction as you. You approached slowly, your bare feet making less than a whisper against the linoleum, and when peering into the tiny room you surprisingly were met with an interior unfamiliar to you. 

No bigger than a storage closet, it was dressed with carpet and wine colored wallpaper, something that must have been ordered recently and put up. Sitting on one side of the room were several plush chairs, and on the other side was a large mahogany desk bedecked with all manner of electrical lines and small, antique devices. Manning the technological dinosaur was Diarmuid, engrossed deeply in the work while holding one side of a pair of chunky headphones to his ear. He seemed to be tapping a pattern into a small machine. Out of either frustration or focus he had furrowed his brow and was biting down on his tongue as he continued his ministrations and then paused suddenly, freezing before scrawling something down quickly on a notepad by his side. 

“What is all this?” You asked before thinking, snapping Diarmuid out of his trance. 

His eyes lifted to yours and one of his million-dollar smiles spread across his face while he lifted his pen away from the paper. With his headphones resting around his neck, he looked almost like a properly modern man. “Oh, hello dearest,” he said, pulling his chair out slightly from the desk and motioning for you to come closer. “Did you come to find me?” He asked as you approached and sat down on his lap, shrugging. 

“I just felt the need to go for a walk,” you explained. He seemed relieved that he hadn’t caused a problem as he heaved a sigh, pressing his lips to your cheek and giving you a light kiss. 

“Well, while you’re here I suppose I can introduce you to my newest hobby,” he chuckled before gesturing towards the archaic equipment that littered the surface of the desk. “This is my telegraph machine,” his face beamed as he stroked a small wooden box, “Me and a couple other servants have gotten it up and running for the past few weeks. I’m quite proud of it to be honest,”

You wanted to support every hobby he told you about, you truly did, but this all seemed a little bit far fetched. “Telegraph?” You asked, “Didn’t those become obsolete like… 50 years ago?” You tried to keep your tone as non-judge mental as possible, but Diarmuid still frowned slightly at your prodding. Quickly, you backpedalled, “I think it’s really cool, I promise! I just wasn’t sure if it still worked like it’s supposed to… who are you even sending telegrams to?” 

Thankfully, Diarmuid didn’t seem to be bothered in the least by your new line of questioning. “Actually, telegraphs are still widely used in some regions of the world,” he explained before freezing as he had before, pulling the headphones back up to his ears and then moving to scrawl in his notebook once again. From your new vantage point you could see he was receiving a message, writing it down with a hurried but neat print. When the message was all done, he returned his attention to you. “Anyways,” he said, picking right up where he’d finished, “you know how Chaldea’s internet prevents anyone from using chat features, so we can’t communicate with anyone besides the Clock Tower?” 

“Yes…” you responded. The shimmering glint in his eyes made your heart beat a little faster. Loyal to the last as he was, Diarmuid could be a bit of a rebel when it brought joy to the people close to him. You could only imagine what havoc he had wreaked this time. 

“Well, we found a workaround. By setting up our own Antarctic telegraph company, we’ve allowed the staff a chance to talk to their families again. The best part is, now, people have started to send messages back,” Diarmuid’s pride was now fully understood by you. He had done the impossible, he had given people their families back. “The only trouble is that all the time zones are different, so sometimes I need to come man the telegraph at night,” 

Before you realized it happening, tears were starting to flow down your cheeks. Diarmuid, though, took it the complete wrong way. “Have I upset you darling?” He fussed over you as he always did, wiping your tears away and rubbing your back. “I promise it won’t interfere with anything, we already cleared it with DaVinci and everything is going to be fine. Please, tell me what’s wrong,”

“No, no, this just… does this mean I could write back home, too?” Your voice was rough as you looked at the telegraph machine that had just minutes before seemed so antiquated and silly. Now it looked like a beacon of hope. 

Diarmuid, instead of giving a yes or no, put his headphones on once again and smiled at you. “I’ll need a name, address, and your message,” he hushed, pressing yet another kiss to your face, this one on your temple instead of your cheek. There were millions of things you wanted to say, far too many to fit in a tiny telegram, but a few words were much better than none, you supposed. Diarmuid, as if he could sense your apprehension, started making soft conversation to relax you.

“It’s funny,” he said, flipping through the little notepad before offering it to you, “a few servants have started to use telegrams as a sort of mail system within Chaldea, like Endkidu and Gilgamesh. They each send each other a good morning and good night telegram, each one more poetic than the last, so that the first thing they do in the morning and the last thing they do at night is get a message delivered from the person they care about most,”

Just as he said, in Diarmuid’s handwriting were pages worth of little notes and poems from the Sumerian pair. As you continued to search you only found more names you recognized. Mordred, Hans, Edmond, and many others had their names written into the little pad, but the number of staff members who had used the service dwarfed the number of servants by over half. 

“Why did you choose a telegraph?” Your curiosity was genuine as you turned back towards your partner, “out of any hobby, why this one?”

“Well, I had wanted to surprise you with some way of contacting your family, and while researching different potential codes we could use somehow I came across morse,” There was something almost shy about the way Diarmuid spoke while he ran his thumb along the edge of the desk, pensive, “from there I discovered the telegraph system and decided I would make it work no matter what. When the machine itself got here, DaVinci and I spent that Sunday when I was out from dawn till dusk rigging it up and making sure it worked. Then, I put on the headset,” 

Something dreamy took over his tone then, and never once had you seen his so enamored with anything that wasn’t you. “I’ve never been the most talkative man, you know that,” he muttered, “I’ve been happy to simply spend time in your presence and sometimes enjoy the company of Fionn’s new friends, but when I put that headset on it’s like I’ve suddenly tuned in to thousands of voices and lives, giving good news and bad. From that moment on I knew I couldn’t keep this machine to myself, so we recruited a few other servants, cleared out a closer, and set up shop. I guess I just got so caught up in it that I forgot to tell you…”

He almost seemed shameful as he hung his head and cleared his throat, netting your gaze with an uncertain look in his eyes. When you kissed him gently, though, that uncertainty disappeared. “I think I’m ready,” you whispered. In seconds his finger had returned to the little machine, poised and ready to tap out it’s compiled code. 

After reciting your parent’s names and address, you took a deep breath and started. “I hope this reaches you,” you began, wringing your hands and leaning into Diarmuid’s body, ”my job is going very well. I know it’s difficult being so far away, but know I love you and think of you often. I’ve found a man I care for lots, hopefully I can bring him home someday. Please write back, I have missed you more than you know,” With a shuddering breath, you finished by signing off with your name. 

When all was said and done, only the rhythmic tapping of the needle filling your ears, you felt a thousand pounds lighter than you had before. Though Diarmuid had given you many gifts in your time together, cakes and pajamas and framed paintings, this one was more important than all of those put together. It was a chance to be both the person that you had once been and the person you had started to be, a chance to keep both the past and the future. And not only that, within this gift he had found a new purpose himself, a sense of camaraderie, a way to be a part of something larger than himself. You couldn’t be more proud. 

Suddenly, the tapping stopped. Diarmuid’s hand paused and he sat still with his hand pressed to the headphones that still rested against his ears. After a moment and a few taps that seemed like nothing to you, but were probably very significant, he looked up at you and leaned in for a kiss. “Message received,” he chuckled, catching your lips on his and holding you close. Perhaps Diarmuid’s hobbies were better than you gave him credit for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry for the short note today, but I am very behind at life in general and I’m catching up on my last missed chapter haha... Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. This fic was written to The Proposal/The Night Was Alive from Titanic the Musical. I know it sounds silly, but it’s very beautifully written and very sad. I love comments, so don’t be afraid to leave me one! Thanks again for reading and supporting my work <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I’m writing this to challenge myself and become a more flexible writer, so if you have any song suggestions/suggestions for which character I should do next I’d love to hear them


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